AIRLIFT- more than just a movie

Some movies are slightly more than just that, and AIRLIFT is one such. It is based on the evacuation operation of trapped Indians from Kuwait when Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussain had invaded in 1990, and which earned Indian Government a place in Guinness Book of records. This event is of utmost historical importance, which very few of us had known before watching AIRLIFT. It epitomises the showcasing of responsibility by a government towards its citizens. 170000 Indians were Airlifted by the Indian Government using 488 aircrafts in 59 days. Humungous...Incredible...Unbelievable...isn't it? And guess what, our Government has repeated history in Yemen, through the astounding "OPERATION RAAHAT". Salute to all the men, who risk their lives to save humanity in such risky operations, we are nothing without your precious support. Kudos to the Government, whom we mostly find faults with..but reality at times can be rosier than imagination and heartiest wishes to the AIRLIFT team, for imparting India with knowledge and a debouching feeling of pride on the 67th Republic Day of the country. 

Coming to the movie, AIRLIFT directed by Raja Krishna Menon is the story of Ranjit Katiyal, played by Akshay Kumar and his wife Amrita, played by Nimrat Kaur, who are stuck in Kuwait with their little daughter Simu during the time, when Saddam had attacked. Ranjit is a ruthless businessman and calls himself a Kuwaiti. He is happy with his life amidst the patriarchy of Kuwait. He is rich, successful and influential. But one night his and many other lives fall apart like pack of cards. Iraqi soldiers transform Kuwait to a land of violence and fear, just overnight. Saddam's troops slaughter Kuwaitis without any second thoughts. And Katiyal and many others are saved from their bullets only on the grounds of their Indian Origins. AIRLIFT is the story of Ranjit's rise to occasion, when he chooses to save all Indians instead of just his family. His rise above the petty selfish goals and emerge victorious. 

The movie's high point is most definitely Akshay Kumar. The khiladi of bollywood has successfully shredded his larger than life image and gracefully depicted a real hero, who has his share of desperation, fears and failures. The film however does no justice to Nimrat Kaur's creative genius. Her character fail to depict a woman stuck up in a war zone and has very meagre to deliver. The rest of the cast and crew deliver very natural performances. However the depiction of the AIRLIFT operation is not given as much limelight as was expected from the title. Nevertheless the movie is definitely a must watch as it has successfully depicted a story which deserves attention and a salute too.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Dream travel destinations...

“The tranquil blueness of the sea beacons me,

The green country side asks me for company,

The colourful city life wants me to party hard,

The placid mountains look down at me with love.”

It’s strange but true, that I have never travelled outside India. But I have always felt a connection with many exotic locations in the world. I have felt that they beacon me to conquer their beauty and uniqueness and preserve it forever within me. I always call myself an aspiring traveller. Studies, job etc have kept me too busy and drifted from my travelling passion. But I guess and hope with all my heart and soul, for my globe trotting to begin sooTheFollowing are few of the exotics I wish to conquer....

1. Bali: Blue is my colour and hence tranquil serenity of tropical destinations have always attracted me. The golden sand ultimately embraces the blueness of the massive and powerful sea. The transparent waters, the colourful rocks beneath, the smooth coolness of the breeze, the brittle softness of the sand and the never ending blue sky above! A beautiful sea beach is an epitome of natural beauty to me. It kind of sets your spirits free. You feel colourful, you look colourful. The euphoria breathes life in you and relieves you of all stress. Actually I am simply a beach lover, but Bali is one of the most wonderful exotica I want to conquer.

2. Spain: Spain had always been in my wish list. From exotic beaches to places of historical importance like Madrid and Barcelona. Spain has it all, to quench the thirst of a wandering traveller. It has a feeling, difficult to describe in words.  The movie “Zindagi na milegi dobara” actually infused this craze to go through the feeling in me all the more. The stony roads, the smell of history, the culture, the songs and dances and the bull all make it too attractive to be ignored. It also has exotic beaches to offer. Lastly a Spanish holiday is something; I cannot offer to miss in this life.

3. Amsterdam: While Amsterdam is more known for its exotic night life, but my interest is more in the numerous museums the place is stacked with. Being the capital of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, its historical interest actually overrides the red light district attraction. I had loved to read Hazel and Gus romance in the streets of Amsterdam in John Green’s “The fault in our stars.” Its natural beauty and metropolitan features makes it apt for all type of travelers.

4. Paris: Oh! Paris….Its been my dream destination for so long. Just waiting to witness its excellence. The city of style and fashion. The capital of France is a great tourist puller from across the globe. Whether it’s the night view of the Eiffel Tower or the uniqueness of the Louvre Museum. Paris has it all to offer to the world audience. Like most desired destinations across the globe, Paris too has an inherent feeling attached to it. The chic quotient reigns supreme when we talk of it.

5. New Zealand: Though head over heels in love with the euphoria attached with beaches, the placid beauty of snow-capped mountains of New Zealandattract my fancies too strongly. The beautiful greenery of the valley and Grey Mountains around infuses so much life that it is possible to dream with open eyes. The life is more like living a dream there. Hence I dream to live there for a few days in my life.

The world is much more beautiful than we can even imagine, it has got a destination for every traveller. Besides the five places I have mentioned there are many more that I want to behold. The real wish list is never ever going to end.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Kya Kool Hai Hum 3 Review

See my video to know how i felt of the movie.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

TALVAR was truly impactful

Movies are reflections or derivations of reality, but most of the times, fortunately or unfortunately they are far from reality. In an era where movies like Happy New Year turns to be big hit, it is a pleasant surprise to see “Talvar”.  Before I go into the lucidity and clarity of the narration and its portrayal on celluloid, I want to convey my satisfaction on seeing something so close to reality. The houses, dresses and the people, are so real, so tangible, that you immediately establish a connection. And offcourse the acting part, which is far from acting, what appears on screen is a bunch of real people, in real life scenarios.

Talvar is largely or completely based on the infamous double murder case that had stirred the nation and its perception of humanity and parenthood. Aarushi and Hemraj murder case, is one of the few cases where reality is stranger than fiction for sure. In 2008, when 14 year old Aarushi Talwar of Noida and Hemraj a domestic help in the house, were found brutally murdered, the nation had come together to seek justice for the deceased. With loads of twists and turns in the case, finally Aarushi’s parents Dr. Rajesh Talwar and Dr. Nupur Talwar were declared guilty by court and sentenced to Life imprisonment. However, many conjectures and doubts had nested since the declaration and before. The verdict was based on only circumstantial evidences, without any concrete proof to pin point the guilty.

Talvar, the movie and a much researched one, intricately portrays the investigations and the loopholes in it, thus leaving you dumbstruck. And making you wonder about the integrity of the largest institution of investigation of the nation, the CBI, however in the movie they call the entity CDI for obvious reasons.

The movie starts with the discovery of a dead Aarushi and devastated parents Rajesh and Nupur pointing to missing domestic help Hemraj for the crime. The names however were changed. The depiction of Noida police is negative from its very first appearance on screen. The investigating officer’s coldness and lack of interest, leaves you feeling insecure of your safety. Meghna Gulzar’s Talvar evidently sided the convicted parents and goes on to narrate how police and CBI frames them, to fuel their internal strife and their inefficiencies. The cast of the movie has really done justice and I say that with conviction, as I have personally seen my videos and interviews of the Talwar Couple. Konkona Sen Sharma and Neeraj Kabi who play the mother and father of the victim, are very laminar with the portrayal of Nupur and Rajesh Talwar. If the highly researched movie Talvar and Avirook Sen’s Aarushi is to be believed, it is also almost impossible to overlook the coldness in the behaviour of Talwars seen in different interviews. And this aspect was portrayed truly magnificently by the actors. However Irfan Khan as the good cop steals the show, with his charm, frank approach and comic timing.

Overall probably, what Gulzar attempted to show, was not unknown to the nation. Yet it is a brave attempt to depict such a talked about case and putting the facts on face. I do not know the reality like most people, but if the reality is as gruesome as TALVAR, RIP justice. As an individual and a responsible citizen of the country, the movie/incident impacted me to an extent that a feeling of insecurity have permanently nested within me.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

My fantastico encounter with fashion

They say Mumbai is a city of dreams. I too thought so, before hitting the hard reality. There is no denial that this city houses dreams of millions, but again it’s is maverick to ride. Yet the glitz and glamour at times gets over you and a few months back there was such an evening for me and my husband Avishek. We had quite a glittering evening in the awesome Palladium Hotel, celebrating fashion. It was the 5^th day of the ongoing fashion phenomenon, called Lakme Fashion Week. We went for Tarun Tahiliani’s colourful summer collection show.

As we reached the venue, the colourful and soulful vibes immediately stroke a chord. All around were beautiful faces, chic attire and glimpses of Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton. An ambience embedded with the glitter of the modelling world and tinsel town. There were paparazzi all around, trying to get a shot of their favourite faces. But we were more interested to get to see, one of India’s biggest fashion brands “Tarun Tahiliani”. Known for his flavours of India and elaborate use of Indian fabrics. A touch very unprecedented!

After a bit of wait, we could enter inside the ball room, on the 9^th floor of Palladium Hotel. Fortunately we had passes of the 2^nd row with a great view. The show started with the onset of colourful lights and Rajasthani folk musicians playing live. As the models confidently walked the ramp, the musicians went on to play, earthy Indian numbers. Though buying Brands like these, digs a hole in your pocket. But believe me, it’s a delight to watch a show like this live. I and my husband both have a knack of dressing right, so this was just the right thing for us. Because I believe good look, adds confidence to your personality and dressing right is an inevitable ingredient of the perfecto look.

All the models flaunted their beautifully shaped bodies and sculpt looks embracing Tarun’s flowing couture of Indian fabrics. Each was more colourful and vibrant than the other. Inspired by the Majaraja (Kingly) look of Indian tradition, the ensembles sprinkled richness of our culture, music and heritage around! The icing to the awesome cake was the glamorous Chitrangada Singh, who was the show stopper. A confident, beautiful, intelligent looking woman symbolising the woman of today.

Finally what I loved the most, was the Indian touch of the collection. But I would end by saying, fashion dies out but style remains. So it is important to have a style of your own, a style in how you look, a style in how you think and a style in how you write. Stay Stylish! Because Style is a reflection of your attitude and personality!!! And this was a fantastico experience for me!!!

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

AN ACHING HEART

Diya was sitting with her laptop and anxiously typing, unaware of the people, in the Airport around her, who were throwing amused glances at her hyperactivity. It was after five days of introspection and self-exhaustion that she was able to narrow down, to a grand ending to the novel she was working on. Exhilarated she wanted to pen down the fleeting thoughts, before they sublimed or even adulterated in her gray-matter. It was around one and a half years back, when she had finally decided to quit her banking job and pursue writing as career. Her breakup with long term beau Rishaan was one of the major factors, contributing to her decision. She started appreciating her own literary prowess, once she was left alone to mourn her broken heart. The kind of art that pain kneaded in her, evoked excellent outputs. She realized, that her narrations and narrating ability, were her partners forever, because they were her reflections, and reflection never leaves you alone. Her story was a passionate love tale, overflowing with palpable emotions. And off-course it had a grand, happy ending, unlike her real love life. She never wanted to write about the blow of melancholy and betrayal that had shaken her off her feet, she just wanted to create magic, serene, pure.

It was with the intention to write in delectable proximity to nature that she was travelling to Goa. It is worth-mentioning that, she had learned the happiness of solo travellers only after Rishaan left her, solo. Choked with emotions, she was typing voraciously the love story of Nisha and Meet, a couple who had risen from the wreck of her broken heart, her phoenix of imagination.

Engrossed with Nisha and Meet, she was largely unaware of her surroundings when her mind turned upside down with a known voice calling her name.

“Diya?” the voice asked, a male voice. Known, uncanny, irresistible male voice. “No, I won’t respond….it’s again that haunting Déjà vu that meanders around, whenever I come to Mumbai Airport,” thought Diya. Her mind had diverted from her narrative, but she did not look up.

“Diya…what’s wrong? It’s me dude…look up!” said that voice.

She looked up, convinced that he was there. Yes, Rishaan, after 548 days of complete abscond, he was back…back to torment her with all those memories, she so wanted to leave behind.

There he was, 5 feet 10 inches tall, wheatish complexion, impressive features and more impressive physique. When he smiled, a boyish charm over-shadowed his adulthood. There was a time when Diya could die for that smile. But that day she did not even return him with one.

“Ummmm…How are you Diya? Long-time…where are you travelling to?” her stern expression had already taken the casualness off his voice.

“I am good, thank you” replied she and resumed work. Well, just pretended to do so, signalling that she was not willing to strike a conversation with a man, who was capable of pulling out the buried memoires from the graveyard of her heart.

“Diya…” Rishaan was about say something, when an unfamiliar female voice, voiced his name and sounded rather vexed. A young girl in her mid-twenties hurriedly walked up to them, and completely ignoring Diya, started yelling at him.

“I was looking for you for so long Rishaan, you just refuse to change…you and your bizarre ways,” she rolled her kohl lined dramatic eyes at him. She was a tall girl and looked very cheesy in her choice of clothing. Her plum coloured, tight leggings and off-shoulder black top, went well with her noisy attitude. But she had an attractive face, uncommon features and big kohl lined eyes. Atleast two to three inkings peeped from under her clothes, here and there. With five earings and one strange looking nose-ring, she kind of represented the hippie class of uninhibitedness. 

“Kia…Kiara baby…I was just talking to her” Rishaan apologetically tried to pacify her, and cast an embarrassing look at Diya, who had again started typing compulsively. However I can bet, that this time her writings made no sense. Nisha and Meet had sublimed suspiciously and in that void had descended some memories. Memories of a young, petite beauty with sparkling, creative eyes romancing a handsome desirable guy. She thought that she and Kiara were absolute antonyms, if she was tranquillity and grace, Kiara was wilderness, if she was placid waters of a blue Lake, Kiara was tides in a rough sea. However Rishaan was common in both their lives, he was her past and Kiara’s present. When all these thoughts conglomerated to a complicated dough in Diya’s artistic head, she suddenly realised that Kiara and Rishaan were looking intently at her, probably the thoughts manifested to a weird expression on her pretty face.

“Hi, I am Kiara,” said she stretching her hand towards Diya expecting a handshake.

“Ummm…Hi...ummm Diya” replied she, startled and uncomfortable.

“Rishaan talks a lot about you…where are you travelling to?” asked she with a matter of factness in her tone, that surprised Diya. “Rishaan talks about me with her current partner? What does he have to discuss about me? And why? Has he disclosed those memories, has he revealed her childish reaction when he had called it quits, her pleads, her begs, has he said it all?” her mind went reeling, with these thoughts, when Kiara shook her lightly “Hey! What’s up? Are you alright? asked she.

“Yea..h I am fine...fine” fumbling pathetically she spoke.

“Good…well Rishaan told me, how well you write, how creative you are…he told me you both were good friends...” Kiara smiled at Diya, who spared a sarcastic glance at Rishaan at the mention of “good friends”.

“Yes…we were good friends” said she smilingly.

“And you are going to?” asked Kiara.

“Well…Goa!” replied she, to which an excited Kiara added “Really? Oh what a coincidence we are going to Goa too…paradise for boozing, drinking, partying and erotic sex….what say? What’s your plan? We could meet up….I have few friends there and they will take us to those forbidden beaches…you know…” she winked at a perplexed Diya.

“Huh…no thanks…I will be too occupied I guess…I am travelling for work,” said she and looked at Rishaan, as if saying, “wow, what a lady you have wooed, perfect for a moron like you”. The very thought of Rishaan being in Goa at the same time as her had unsettled her, leave aside meeting. She was traveling in search of some peace for her wretched self, but alas, the man who snatched it off had reappeared to torture, and that too with a wild cat. Rishaan could never appreciate her creative thoughts, he searched for more imperfections and he searched for anomaly. Her ability to flow laminar with her thoughts, turned him off. Once when Diya had pleaded him to take her to Goa, he had said “Oh please, I don’t want to waste time with your poems and narratives…nature evokes that madness in you all the more.” That was the first time she had understood that probably, she was not in a perfect relationship.

“Okay…as you wish….hey Rishu, I am going to the washroom, get the luggage from that corner…we will sit here with your friend,” and she smiled at Diya, who was completely irritated by the declaration.

Rishaan was sitting quietly all this time, Kiara’s order infused some life in him. He walked over and got the blue Samsonite trolley, then softly sat on the chair next to Diya.

“How are you?” he asked looking straight into her eyes. The glare had started to melt the ice that had encrusted her heart.

“Better than when you were around” said she and looked away. “By the way, Kiara is perfect for you, erotic, uncreative, your type…” she added.

“Yes…I too thought so, but” he did not react to Diya’s harshness, instead he kind of slipped to oblivion. “But perfection is too far away from our relationship, true, initially her raw sex appeal was attractive, but gradually I knew, that all animals cannot be tamed, some are born to be in the wilderness…Kiara is one such…untamed…we fight Diya, we fight all the time. Infact this is our final call, this trip…our last try to be together…I…I…I miss you Diya… and I am sorry for what I have done to you…you” he could not complete when Diya snapped in.

“Shutup, Shutup Rishaan, you are on a holiday with Kiara and you say you miss me? I knew you are a looser but never knew you are such a hypocrite!!” she looked away disgusted.

“Hey…you people look ghastly…had a fight? Rishu?” Kiara was back from the washroom.

“No” said Rishaan abruptly.

“Anyways….come let’s get the boarding passes…you know…though I can trek to the unknown lands, go sky-diving or snorkelling, but I really get scared in the flight…9/11 syndrome I guess, and so I will sit between both of you. You can take the window seat, Rishu will take the aisle seat…isn’t it Rish?” asked Kiara.

“Hmmm” answered Rishaan.

“Well…you people can very well have your privacy…I will take a seat separately,” said Diya, internally praying to be left alone.

“Oh dear, we are not that horny people, atleast not in an air-craft huh…Rish your friend is too formal…” said she.

“No really…I mean” Diya was desperate.

“You could tell me a story you have written…I am a good listener” Kiara was adamant.

“I don’t write short stories, I am working on a novel,” said Diya.

“Novelist…hmmm…Impressive! Come…we will take the boarding passes” said she and marched towards the counter with a reluctant Diya and unsure Rishaan walking behind her.

Diya, Kiara and Rishaan were seated in the order of the names mentioned. Kiara was holding Rishaan’s hand and resting her head on his shoulder. Diya decided to look away, she looked through the clouds and gradually slipped to a state of partial consciousness. Her mind glided through the floating clouds and reached a land she had been to before, where she and her love had spent good moments, holding each other’s hand and caressing each other’s soul. She could clearly see Rishaan holding her hand, as they sat by the sea in marine drive, it was monsoon the waves were fiendish and drenched them lovingly. The next moment she was in a road side dhaba on the Mumbai-Nashik highway, they both loved to drive to those eateries and treat themselves early morning in close vicinity to nature. Her enjoyable encounter with her past was disrupted by Kiara’s sudden movement.

When Kiara returned after using the loo, Rishaan offered her to sit at the aisle seat, to avoid more commotion. In the rest of the flight, Kiara held on tightly to Rishaan. But his left hand touched Diya’s right hand, who was shocked at this gesture and moved her hand away.

When the flight landed at the Dabolim Airport, the situation was different. Rishaan felt uncanny. He was unable to look at Diya, who was visually unsolved and shaken. They had collected the luggage and were about to make a move, when Kiara mocked “Hey…did you see some ghost in the plane?”

Diya who was struggling to get calm, was irritated at her mockery “Yes…sometimes the haunting past is scarier than a ghost” she said, smiled at her and ignoring Rishaan started to walk towards the exit.

When she had walked away, Rishaan turned to Kiara and hugged her tight “why did you make me do this…why?” he asked desperately.

“Because, I can’t leave you alone…and no one can take care of you more than her” said she, tears rolled out of her eyes “God, showed us the path Rish, and so we met her in the airport…I know it’s tough for you…but otherwise I will not be able to die in peace…please Rish for me…go back to her…she is wonderful, and you know it was your fault right?”

“You are not going anywhere okay?” said Rishaan sounding like a desperate kid.

“My ailment will not let me be with you for long…but that does not mean I will leave you…I will be around you and forever,” said Kiara and both of them hugged each other passionately and cried their hearts out. Truly how profoundly true love can impact our lives.

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

THE LAST REPLY

Today my best friend Rhea told me her story, a small part of it though. But it left me with many questions. Questions on the priorities of our lives. The worth of a relationship is best appreciated during hard times. But should the bourgeoisie of the society affect, what we feel for each other? What is more important the society or the relationships?

After months of caging her like an endangered animal in her house, with visitors flooding in to catch a glimpse of her, today she was finally allowed to be a part of the so called civilised society again. She came to college, and we were seated on the same bench in front of the canteen as usual. We are students of the Psychology department of University Of Calcutta. A name known for its heritage across West Bengal and beyond. The sun was about to hide behind the unknown horizon spreading its delectable crimson rays across. A bunch of migratory birds were flying in a straight line across the heart of the evening sky. The tea vendor in the canteen was busy serving tea to a bunch of noisy freshers. And few guys with unknown faces were casting us with questioning glances and releasing puffs of smoke in the air. The eastern part of the country sees the setting sun early besides it was winter, it was mid-January.

Rhea was silent, she was silent throughout the day. When professors and friends had asked her about her health condition, she had answered them with an awkward affirmative nod, meaning she was fine. Her clumsiness had refrained them from shooting a bunch of gossip building questions. I did not ask her anything, I did not believe what the newspapers were buzzing with these days and I just wanted her to be fine. So I brought her to our favourite corner in the campus, hoping to see her brightened face. For a reason completely unknown to me, I was unable to look directly into her eyes throughout the day. But then I did, the dying rays of the setting sun fell on her doleful face, I could clearly see the dark circles and also a small scar on her right cheek, I immediately looked away. After few seconds of uneasiness, I asked her “Care for some tea…hmmm?”And it was the first time during the entire day that our gazes met, “Sure” she said and smiled.

As I was about to walk towards the canteen to get us some tea, she asked me to wait and then accompanied me. In no time, we were perched on our favourite bench again, with tea in clay cups in our hands. This time she started.

“Do you think, I have missed too much Ashima?” she asked.

“Hmmm?” I asked inattentively, only to regain senses in a few milliseconds “Nope…..not really, don’t worry, I will help you!” I smiled lovingly.

“Thanks Ash…ummmm…don’t you want to ask me anything….like the other people…my friends, relatives…all of them wanted to know a lot…but…” she stopped.

“But what Rhea? Do you want to tell me anything?” I asked her.

“Yup…he…he has left me…he” she stammered painfully and looked down. Though I did not see, I could feel the tear drops tickling down her scarred cheek. I could feel my muscles tense and my veins show up on my forehead. Rhea loved Ramanuj immensely, so I could not believe my ears, though my brain had guessed this long back.

“What?” came out of my mouth unintentionally.

“Hmmm, after the September incident he was keeping a distance, I thought he needs time…but little did I know that he lacked backbone to stand up against his irrational, illiterate family members for his physically abused partner….” She stopped when emotions choked her throat. She looked away when I put my hand on her shoulder.

“He did not deserve you” I said what I believed.

“I did not deserve all that happened to me, the dark September night turned my life upside down…lost, defeated I returned only to be shunned from the society, shunned by the person I loved most….Ashima I don’t have anything against those drunken illiterates…..I feel ashamed of the so called literate society around me….it is only a few who really felt my sore….even the closest people were more interested in the spicy details of the incident…” she continued. I wanted to stop her, I did not want my friend to go through that pain all over again. I did not want the poisonous nails to scratch her dignity any further. “Rhea…let it be…try to forget…” I could not complete.

“Forget…huh…never Ashima…never…even if you and I want to eradicate that dark episode off my life…no one will let me do so…I pity mommy and dad…they walk around like ashamed criminals…my aunts, my uncles, cousins and even the media only searched for scoops, tangy, saleable…no one bothered of the pain that evoked deep within me…when they asked me…how many men groped me…how many nasty hands touched my dignity…no one bothers Ash…no one” tears of resentment pent up had found flood gates, and I let them flow. Rhea wept and wept until her lungs gave away. Then she started narrating those details which I refrained from asking, fearing of hurting her, she went into oblivion.

It was 12^th September an usual college day for all of us. We had our practical class and were a bit late that evening. Rhea and I had taken the same auto from near our college to M.G. Road Metro station. From there I had taken a metro to Dum Dum and she had taken one to Park Street. The metros had moved in opposite direction as expected. It was 8:00 pm when Rhea reached Park Street Metro Station and was waiting for an auto to take her to her home, where her parents waited for their only child to return. The metro station was unusually empty that evening. Rhea had already started to feel uneasy, when her mobile phone went ablaze with “Baba Calling”, she immediately answered the call. An anxious voice, which she remembers vaguely to be her father’s was constantly yelling desperately “there has been some political party fights near Park Street Metro Station, avoid that area…avoid…avoid”. But before she could realise what was going on, dark shadows of unknown faces were cast on her and rough hands had grabbed her. What followed next, was a never-ending phase of physical abuse, demean and derogation and her meek and futile attempts to save herself. Rhea had no clue, how long she had endured the torture before a bunch of college going boys came to her rescue, followed by the patrolling police. She was immediately taken to the nearby hospital in unconscious condition. Her tormentors had fled and fled for good. Being supporters of some local political party leader, police and administration could not touch them, even with enough witnesses.

Little did my friend know, that her persecution had just started! The media pounded on her, like a hungry wolf in search of tangy scoop. Newspapers, TV channels flooded with the news of a young college girl, being alone in a problem stricken area, late at night and raped by some antisocials, who were supposedly drunk. Questions started to be raised and eyebrows creased. What was she doing in an area, which was under high alert? Why was she alone at that hour of the night (8:00 pm is late night), was she waiting for her lover? Why did she choose to wear western, body hugging clothes (she was wearing a jeans and T-shirt)? An incident which was nothing more than physical abuse and torture, was blown out of proportion to increase viewership and accelerated to appear like rape. Whispers and gossip gave birth to a cacophony of disgrace. Rhea’s parents transformed to cocoons and she a living body without a soul.

She was substantially physically hurt as well and was released from hospital after 10 days of treatment. Doctors advised her to be kept away from anxiety and take rest for atleast a month. Her physical pain started to reduce in due course of time but her mental torment was beyond her abilities to endure. The landline never ceased to ring and her parents never ceased to explain to the unfeeling world, that their ill-fated daughter was not raped. Then started the visits, the relatives and friends who never, ever cared for their existence suddenly appeared from nowhere. As if deprived of sleep and peace, they had come running to enquire of her well-being. Truly, how hypocrite people can be!!! Their only intention was to know the details of the incident and derive sadistic pleasure out of her agony.

However in this incongruity, one phone and one visit was craved by Rhea. Ramanuj! Why was he so cold to all that was happening in her life? He neither called nor visited her after that incident. And as she was under constant scrutiny, she too was unable to contact him. Insecurity and pain was clouding inside her heart. Her brain knew what this coldness meant but her heart defied the truth. “No, Ramanuj loves me…he can never be this heartless…to leave me alone…when I need him the most!” said her heart.

Days, weeks and months passed, she tried contacting him but in vain. Neither her calls were answered nor were her texts replied. She even asked me to contact him, but I was unable to do so. Dark lonely nights witnessed her melancholy as she wiped tears of distress. Her kohl lined questioning eyes, stared at the creaky ceiling fan for hours, “What am I? Who am I? , they asked to the unknown voids that had secretly settled in her life without her consent.

That morning was dark, just like other days. She got up with a bad headache, her right cheek had inflamed again. Probably she had scratched the wound, unaware during sleep. Her eyes were red and fluffy, she must have wept to sleep. Sleepily she walked over to the bathroom to freshen up. The mirror which once looked back at her with a youthful naughty grin and eyes full of life, scared her that day. She looked ghastly, barely a shadow of her true self.

Then suddenly she sprang to life with the ringing of her mobile phone. That was the ringtone she had set for Ramanuj. Her fragile body instantly gathered strength and she ran to answer the call. But alas before she could reply the line was cut. Off late she had stopped stalking him in her dreams, the call had rekindled the diming light. She immediately called back only to hear “the number has been switched off”. So she decided to leave one last message “I don’t know what has distanced you from me, in my knowledge I am not at fault of committing any crime. I had expected your support…your love…but alas I got none. Now what I expect is just a reply…just tell me what you have kept inside….Rhea.” Time ticked off. But Ramanuj did not text back, she kept checking and checking and days passed by. The phone call had revived some hope, but disconnection had started to feel suffocating again.

She wanted to stop herself from checking her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She couldn't stop herself despite of trying hard. This sinking feeling to find absolutely no communication from him was killing her
And then the message appeared and swiped her off her feet.

But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn't know if he was joking or not. What was this?

His reply said “I am sorry. But as you must have already understood, this relationship is over. My parents will never be able to accept you, after all this scandal. I cannot blame them, the society is such…take care.”

And this was Rhea’s last reply “Thank you…for letting out yourself. This society is such, because creatures like you and your parents form a part of it. This episode which is a shameful scandal for you and your family…is the hard core and painful reality of my life. Thanks again for sparing my life from your dark presence…you exemplify that literacy cannot make anyone human. Get yourself some life, some light. A relationship that changes status for reasons as you have stated is not worth living. Will never want to see your face again!” The send button was not easy to press but she eventually did. For the next few moments, time came to a standstill as she shrieked out her deepest emotions in the form of painful cries.

The impact of baseless societal norms makes us unfeeling and robs us of basic humanity. The impact of that single incident changed so many lives and so many outlooks.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

The positive IMPACT of my childhood

I woke up feeling awesome, with a grin on my face. I had been dreaming and my dreamy self was still loitering about, on the known and loved grounds of the place I belong to. Of late I was always waking up feeling sore, the fast and the furious life of Mumbai was somewhat not suiting this small town girl. But that day, I felt distinctly divine.  Beaming with confidence, I had kick started the eventful and long day.

And as Gurudev says” If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars.”

I have grown up in the beautiful township of Kulti (near Asansol) in West Bengal. Nature have always expressed her enticing self in the most magnanimous manner there, with lush greenery, well-kept gardens and parks and huge mansions, Kulti could be the perfect ground for breeding rich souls. I still vividly remember those evenings, when I used to stand aimlessly in the balcony, gazing at the lane leading to the busy Grand Trunk road and the golf ground that paralleled it.

My father was working with IISCo, and the company managed the glorious township. All the needs, comforts and luxuries were taken care of in the most proficient manner. The bungalows and apartments were mostly built in the British era. Hence they had the English touch, with exorbitant rooms, high ceilings, fireplaces and gardens with out houses; they were evidently chic pieces of British architecture.

I remember the dilapidated one in the middle of a ground; people called it “Bhoot Bungalow” (The haunted mansion) and the Lodge in front of our apartments, which was believed to be nesting smugglers. The spooky suspense tales greatly intrigued my friends and me, as children.

Life in Kulti was just like a painting, with happy faced, high-spirited people in the frame. Every festival, be it the grandiloquent Durga Puja, euphoric Holi, cheerful Christmas, effervescent Diwali or seraphic Eid, dawned with the hope of commemoration with enthusiasm and conviction.

People with different pragmatism, from different places and of different caste and creed had come together, to build a highly polished, cosmopolitan haven.

Memoirs of Kulti are incomplete without the mention of our club “Kulti Club”. The elaborate building witnessed festivities, fun, frolic and euphoria. Clubbing has never been so fun. There was an auditorium, a restaurant, a bar, a billiard’s room, swimming pools, lawn tennis and badminton courts and a library within the premises of our club.

Although miles away from the happening city life, Kulti had a very modern culture, thanks to the people dwelling there. I remember swimming gala nights, when the club building would be flooded with lights and how tastefully Srilekha aunty would conduct. The moonlight picnics, Bingo nights, English dinners, Jam sessions, scintillating winter balls on 24^th December, New Year bashes which witnessed chic men and women cladded in their best outfits, who can forget such grandeur? While on one side of the coin there was glee and ecstasy, the other side embodied culture. Kulti taught me the importance of Rabindra jayanti and Mahishasur Mardini. Annually at least three to four cultural programs were staged, inculcating in us richness of our culture and literature. My parents always encouraged me to participate and so I did willingly. I posses humongous memories, of these cultural events and numerous blogs might be insufficient to portray them all.

Life in Kulti has IMPACTED me to become what I am today, my strengths and weaknesses too. And when I tend to loose my cool due to the vulnerabilities around, it returns to my life in the form of a dream and breathes life into my ailing soul.

“It was all green around, the breeze was cool and sweet, at a distance children were playing, just as I used to with my friends…from the void the enchanting melody of “Jodi tor daak shune keu na ashe, tobe ekla cholo re” was reaching my ears…..” and suddenly I woke up with a jolt feeling awesome."

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta