Praktan-a tale of diverging relationships

A song I really loved from the movie

Whenever it is about bengali movies, there is a different feeling and reviewing it becomes a task, given to the emotional pressure. Possibly staying away from Bengal infuses love for the language, culture and state in a more illustrious way. So whenever these movies hit the theatres in Mumbai, we definitely make it a point to watch.

Today I want to explicitly pour my feelings on the undertaken emotional journey last weekend. Yes "Praktan" meaning former is a tale of diverging emotional vulnerabilities. The title is a reflection of the relationship status of the leading pair Ujaan and Sudipa, played by acting stalwarts Prosenjit Chatterjee and Rituparna Sengupta respectively. These actors have evolved with every undertaken role and have infused life into them which is largely unremitting. 

But what intrigues me about "Praktan" is the way the story or the essence has been conveyed to the audience. This movie is a journey, both literally and metaphorically. The characters have boarded "Gyaneshwari Express" and are on their way from "Mumbai" to "Kolkata". And as the train roll along, they take us through a soul-searching voyage on relationships, emotions and a layer beneath the conspicuous.

While Sudipta is sharing bracket with her "praktan" husband's current wife played by Aparajita Auddy and his child, and is evidently in a coup of emotional outburst. There are other characters who portray different colours of human correspondence. In one coupe there are well known musicians from Bengal, playing themselves in the movie. While this coupe originates music throughout the journey which resonates through personal spaces of the characters and the audience alike, Surojit Chatterjee also touch upon his sad retire from the celebrated Bangla Band "Bhoomi". In another coupe an elderly couple played by Soumitra Chattopadhyay and Sabitri Chattopadhyay, emphasise the beauty of togetherness in that age. While another coupe has a fat, insecure husband with his beautiful wife, who probably are facing the insecurities for the first time in that train, on their honeymoon trip. So in a nutshell Shiboprasad Mukherjee and Nandita Roy, converted Gyaneshwari into a melting pot of diverse emotions.

Ujaan and Sudipa had married each other in love. Their intellectual bent of mind had attracted them to an extent of tying the knot. However they discover each other only after they  are together. And eventually their love faces a defeat against their immense egos and grossly incompatible sensibilities, leading to a separation. But can a signature really separate people? Well, this movie is an answer. Ujaan and Sudipa continue to love each other, with hearts full of complains. And when fate brings them face to face after 10 long years, they discover the hidden emotions and gracefully quit a realm which had given them the first taste of love.

Praktan leaves you in a space of thought. You tend to weigh your feelings and somewhat rectify which might go wrong. While everyone have acted unbelievably natural, Aparajita Auddy steals the show by her loud yet lovable character. In totality it was a great watch. Kudos to the team. And thanks for the soulful trip of "Tilottama", a breathe of fresh air for people like us!!!!

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

TO LIVE A DREAM

A beautiful Rabindra Sangeet, I am sure you will enjoy, even if you don't understand the language the tune will touch you!!

I woke up to see a dream. I had been sleeping like a queen, on a round bed with flowing white, satin bed sheet. I believe I would have slept till eternity, given to the luxury my body was subject to, if the naughty breeze had not tickled my ears and hid in my Rapunzel like long, black traces. I woke up to play early morning hide & seek with the sea wind that whirled through the room, making the pink, satin curtains go haywire. I could see the glowing emerald through open windows. The sparkling white sand led gradually, smoothly and deliciously to the bluish green waters. A strangely, dreamy and vulnerable aroma fill the room. I guess tropical flowers contributed to that.

When my sleepy eyes had completed scanning the magnificence of the surroundings, they fell on my hubby sleeping peacefully, looking remarkably unguarded. I smiled at the naughty thoughts that peeped through my mind. I placed a loving peck on his forehead and jumped off the bed. On my lemon yellow gown, the crimson rays landed gracefully making it blush to a delectable orange. I walked towards the open window, which welcomed me with a rush of flavorous yet fiendish air. My hair gave away and flew to cover my eyes. And when I removed that, I could feel the smile, which my hubby claims to be arresting, enlightening my breeze-kissed face.

If someone could decipher the impetus behind that pre-eminent grin, she/he would know that it was the magnum opus that lay in front of my city-sick eyes. The sun had just relieved itself from the mighty grip of the unknown dark shadows and appeared in a sedate glory. A glory that has glorified the ocean and revealed it's opulent beauty from behind the curtains of the dark night. There was an unsung festivity around and I couldn't stop my feet from walking out of that cottage. When I stepped out, the breeze struck more voraciously. I was gay to see no iota of human life or sensibilities around. After ages,  I felt like myself again.

I walked on the soft, silvery sand that caressed my feet. Some bushes were ablaze with unknown flowers and a riot of colours. The tropical essence infused life in me. I was walking and walking, until the sand felt wet. The ocean must have kissed this part secretly in the magical darkness of the moonlit night, before receding back to the lines of decency. My mind was weaving a "tale of love" between the depths of the mighty ocean and gritty/greedy silvery delight. In no time, my feet touched my "majestic blues". I sat down to feel it from nummy closeness. As if I wished it's unison with my existence, unison of nature with my soul.

"As I behold the dancing waves 

As I behold them come

I drench myself in divine sedate

I drench myself in love

The breezy day breathes life in me

While I lovingly gather strength to survive"

By Aritra

I sat on the sand and let the water wet me. Then I closed my eyes and started humming one of my favourite creations of Tagore "Khela Ghar Bhandte legechi, amar moner bhitore...." (have shared the song in the beginning of my narrative). Oblivion engulfed in no time, I could hear the song being carried to my ears by the salty sea breeze. I loved my life...I..I "Aritra, Aritra get up honey.....it's time...you are sleeping too late....". It was Avishek my husband's voice. I woke up to see the reality.....

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

My City of dreams-Mumbai

As a kid I grew up amidst lush greenery

Shadowy meadows and thorny bushes of berry

Fast and furious city life was a menace to me

Nothing more repulsive, nothing more scary!




But time got me to face challenges new

The secured hamlet ceased to bestow its glorious hue

The scorching city sun glared at me

I missed the sylvette beauty and the drops of dew!




Tick, Tock, Tick time moved on

And against my awareness my thoughts evolved

I learnt to drink from the glass of fun

A craze for this madness eventually developed!




Though the first rendezvous was not long back

Yet the presence of this dreamy city has grown on me

From marine drive and the necklace of the queen

To colorful "chowpati" life by the Arabian Sea!




This city and its virtues are numerous and more

Be it the heavenly rains and the smell of roasted corn

Or the happening nightlife with glittery and gloss

It gives a life full of life, no spare to forlorn!

A city that houses art and literature
A city that evokes that craft
A city that harness the dreamer in you
And your hidden sensibilities updraft!

“Vada Pao”, “Pao Bhaji” or “cutting chai”

Or the illuminating festivities on “Ganesh Chathurthi”

This city and it’s numerous shades of life
Leaves me awestruck, whatever the occasion be!

Mumbai teaches you to be a Marathon runner
Ceaseless effort and countless hurdle
And at the finishing line you stand successful
Proud of your entity with eyes full of sparkle!

But to me this city is my little apartment
From my merry dark corner I watch the city-light
I experience the cacophony of delectable life
From the sky touching corner of my nest of love, in the darkness of the night!

pic courtesy google images

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta




Stop Judging - Know Yourself more

When I was trying hard to judge the world

I was suddenly thunderstruck

What do I do with the knowledge of the rest?

When all I know of me is just a skerrick

Sometimes when the sky is cloudy

And I can see no light

Why does floodgates open in my eyes?

I fail to apprehend what blurs my sight.

At times I loose for some reason unknown

At times I smile amidst known odds

What makes me and what breaks me

I even fail to recognize what makes me plod

Yet my defiant self wants to know the unknowns
Wants to judge the people around
How do I convince my questioning being
"knowing yourself will leave you astound!"

Life is a journey of fetching our within
Life is a journey of recognizing our vision
Let this path be meaningful to the core
Being judgmental is just like treason.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Being a part of the digital leap

A third time my narration claimed space in RIL women's magazine, feels nice.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Soap Operas and the emotional garbage they serve

With due respect to the people, who enjoy daily soaps that rule the Hindi TV industry and get the actors, producers and people associated, great chunks of money, this post is to elaborate the kind of garbage they serve to the audience. Gone is the time when a "Humlog", or a "Dekh bhai dekh" would be created to touch your hearts or tickle your funny bone. Now is the era of overtly pan-caked women protagonists and vamps burning mid-night oil to contemplate some heinous crime! Not a single character will settle for a single marriage, their fundamental is "ye dil mange more" and hence they marry, divorce, re-marry, divorce and it goes on and on. Well, well! I have nothing against divorce and remarriages, but the same tale everywhere is more than nauseating to me. 

These tales which virtually never end, will most-definitely not be comprised of well-thought characters and well-executable plots, they appear more or less impromptu story telling that branches and re-branches depending on public demand. While some of the soaps have managed to create a niche in this wild forest of insensibilities, most of them dwell in the realms of money making as the only motive. “Sasural Simar Ka” a tale which is largely popular have taken to incorporating black-magic and hell lot of unimaginable trash to get TRPs. And then there is “Nagin” which gives you a feeling of Deja vu and you reach some strange movie of the eighties, which you can hardly relate to in this scenario. And most of them start with showcasing a basic responsibility towards the society, as in spreading the thought “goodness makes you a winner”. But after few episodes they forget, and throughout the show, till some odd “1000***” episodes the modest/humble good one is constantly trashed by the smart bad one. Then finally one day the channel decides to discontinue airing the trash and replace it with another, when the makers forcefully show the good one as a winner.

But my bigger concern is the detrimental role these retarding tales have on the audience. With an era which is progressing at a lightning speed, there are still many who indulge into these. And what impact does these leave on the minds of millions of viewers with its black magic, kitchen politics and multiple broken marriages? Time to think and time to serve sense to the viewers.

A still from Sasural Simar ka

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Capital Social-haven for foodies

Our plan was to devour Parsi delicacies in the famous eatery in BKC "Soda Bottle Openerwala". But little did we know that it was way too crowded in a hot summer Sunday afternoon compared to our meagre anticipation. A blunt declaration of "2 hours waiting" pushed our energy levels drastically down. BKC has no dearth of eating joints, but Parsi food was what our tongues urged for desperately. However something is better than nothing so we opted for the restaurant just beside "Soda Bottle Openerwala" called "Capital Social". And thankfully they assured on tad bit waiting of half an hour. And offcourse, how could I forget!!! Just before we entered we spotted "Shreya Ghoshal", the famous singer, in case you don't know, enter "Capital Social", which slightly increased our enthusiasm.

To start with, the guy at the reception was warm and interactive. His quality evokes positivity about the place before you have entered it. Since we were six adults and a one year old, they gave us a seat where the child could be comfortable. Giggles, frolic and bit a tangy gossip had already started to spice up the afternoon. Unfortunately I had some colicky symptoms the night before and hence refrained from too much indulgence.

We placed quite an elaborate order and I don't remember the names of any. As I was not in-charge of making the choices, I did not go through the menu card. I just ordered fish and chips for myself as it appeared to be slightly on the lower side of spicy. 

Capital Social

Food for life...food for thought!!

"Capital Social" decorated on the theme of "communism" and its related aspects reminded of old Kolkata, with an elaborate use of the "hammer and sickle" communist logo. It had a different air about its ambience I would say. But what surprised us most, were the prices, incredibly low for the taste and quality, which makes "Capital Social" a haven for foodies with varying pocket sizes.

Our gang having fun!!!

I specially loved the tender meat on the nachos, the taste has remained with me. Having said that, all the dishes we ordered were absolute up to the mark, and inspite of trying to refrain from overindulgence, I did taste each of them.

I and my friends am sure, will highly recommend this place to people who love to have experimental food and an utter extravagant food experience.

All of us, pleased after the meal

A bit of posing, can't do without

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Queen in this digital abode

The morning sun hit my eyes,

The alarm clock shrieked,

It was time to start a brand a new day,

Sometimes smooth, sometimes absolute freaked.

From enlightening my cook with recipes new,

Buying veggies to selling stuffs out-mode,

I am the queen in my credible niche,

A woman of today in this digital abode.

Oops! A seminar lined for today,

So I hit the roads to a destination unknown,

As my mean machine traverse the crowded lanes,

My buddy "the GPS" peacefully gets me flown.

From anchoring with family to chatting with pals,
My happening life is absolute devoid of forlorn, coz

I am the queen in my credible niche,

A woman of today in this digital abode.

Presentations, cold smiles and peer exercise,
Have comprehended all with sustainable elan,
Yet the typical girlie in my corporate self searches for levity,
In the shows on hotstar, that I eye in my secret den.

A pinch of soap opera and their weeping protagonists,
Or a bit of cric info is also aboard, as

I am the queen in my credible niche,

A woman of today in this digital abode.

God! It's late, it's late,
The roads are scary, I feel dreadfully alone,
But my safety lies just a touch away,
My apps are my saviors in all appalling zone.

Digitization has its share of goods and bads,
It is on you to elect the supreme plod, coz all of you

Can be queens in your credible niche,

A woman of today in this digital abode.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta 

Sunflower

This is neither a story nor a poem...this is just a picture I captured in the very premises of my office and let its colorfulness permeate through my skin thickened by the rough winds of life....the gardeners in my office (Reliance Corporate Park) compound come up with different horticulture exuberance from season to season. But heaves of files, laptop and deadlines have snatched away our urge to experience the incredible. But yesterday, probably the creative being in me had uprooted the corporate player and I decided to click this beauty....DO YOU LIKE MY SUNFLOWER??  

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

pic courtesy : me and my moto x play :-)

An abandoned warehouse

Stuti was walking in the direction she was asked to. Her two year old tagged along and sometimes she carried him in her lap. The road as if had no end. After Avinash's death she was fighting all alone with her tormentors to get her deserved share of property. Not for her luxury but her son's future. She could do anything imaginable for his well-being. 

Stuti, Avinash and little Rishab were happily living in the city. But just an year back, Avinash was detected with cancer, all their money went into his treatment but it could not free him from the claws of death. Before breathing his last, a devastated Avinash had mentioned about a property in the Haryana village he belonged to. But his family, villagers and the Khap had never approved of their marriage, given to their age old rotten social taboos. Yet Stuti knew, she had to fight. For his son, his education and his future.

Coming to the village was easy but getting her voice heard was not. From death deterrents to getting embossed as a witch who has devoured her husband she had it all. But each day made her stronger and stronger. She would see the end of it. When all this drama was taking place, a local politician met her and asked to reach him secretly, he promised " he would help". It was not that she did not smell fowl. But when your back has touched the wall, you cannot do anything better than taking a chance.

She walked and walked, on the unknown lanes of a Haryana village. It was nearing dusk and she could see the dilapidated temple the politician had mentioned. But where had her stride brought her too? The village looked back at her from a distance that seemed several light years, there was no sign of life across acres of land. Stuti knew she was in danger. Rishab had already turned cranky, he was hungry. She quickly fed him and soon he retired in her arms and embraced sleep, given to the exhaustion the little one had to put up with.

Stuti's vigilant eyes scanned the area around. Where could she hide before the goons appeared? And soon she spotted an abandoned warehouse on the extreme right of the road. It looked more than scary but she knew she had no choice. Slowly she walked and hid herself in an elevated platform, from where she could scan the surroundings but there was rare chance for her to be spotted.

The sun had hid under the unknown layers of darkness and the moon illuminated the area. The unmanned remains of the spooky warehouse hid her from any approaching danger. Her heart thumped heavily, but she held the sleeping child tightly, ready to flea in case of any unforeseen adversity. More than spooky tales she was scared of wild animals, snakes that might were seekers of refuge in that untouched building. Her senses were alert like a beast.

After sometime she could see a SUV approach the temple, she knew they had come. She could clearly see the men, scarier than the place she was in. They voraciously scanned the area and were visibly annoyed when they could not see her. After 10-15 minutes of scanning she could hear one of them speak "shall we search that warehouse?"
"Are you mad? That building is haunted....don't you know of the fire incident that claimed the lives of 50 workers...they say...that even today in the darkness of the night, those workers visit the warehouse.." replied another.
"Oh...then she will have better company if she hides there...what do you say?" said the third goon. An then Stuti could hear an unforgiving uproar of wolfish laughter, followed by the vehicle's sound as it sped away.

Stuti had drenched in perspiration, in-spite of being a modern woman, the darkness of the lonely night, the grave silence and that warehouse made her spine chill. She closed her eyes and started chanting hanuman chalisa. And in no time, oblivion engulfed her consciousness catalysed by the tiredness of her body.

When Stuti opened her eyes the early morning sun had touched, clearing her vision and thoughts. Rishab smiled at her and demanded water, which she gave him. Suddenly she realised that surrounding her were many human skeletons. The remembrance of that fateful day, when workers were engulfed in the hungry tongue of fire. Yes they were all around her, but not to hurt.

She smiled and walked away. In her mind she said "no ghost is scarier than mankind."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta

Completely fictional.