Reflections

I am back from India after a holiday that seemed far too brief. I went back to Siliguri, now wracked by the Gorkhaland agitation. We had planned a short holiday in the hills but had to hastily cancel it as there was a bandh call, which in the event got cancelled. It is difficult to go for a holiday with the possibility of a Damocles sword hanging over you, no matter how beautiful the destination may be. Perhaps the agitators would do well to remember this. Once the golden goose is killed, there will be no more eggs, golden or otherwise. Calcutta where we spent a couple of days was as Calcutta always is : dusty and crowded. I visited the Mohun Bagan ground after a long time and met Subir and his friends, of which I will write at length later. I saw the lights of Park Street, looking pretty good this year; it appears that the Park Street is recovering somewhat from the raggedness that it had fallen into during the eighties and the nineties. The roads as usual were chockablock with the mo

One of my posts (Mohun Bagan Vs East Bengal) has brought me in contact with a group of young alert and very tech savvy group of fans of Mohun Bagan who have banded themselves into a Yahoo group. One of the founders is Subir Mukherjee who commented on my post and invited me to join them. I did and am daily being entertained by their conversations. It seems to cover everything, from the best way to preserve records and digitize them to what they will be doing over the weekend (some of them will be partying I am glad to say.) There is now a lively conversation going on about the famous Pele match. This was in 1977 on the 24nd of September (I think). I had the privilege of watching the match as well. I remember that the Statesman had written during the build up to the match that it was ridiculous that Mohun Bagan should play them. Mohun Bagan had lost the Senior Division Football league title that year, losing 0-2 to East Bengal in the derby match. If I remember correctly, there was some

I wake up nowadays to the sound of the koel’s call. It is untimely, at least that is what I would have thought in India where we associate the koel with the onset of Spring. It could , at least during my student days be heard even in central Calcutta by lanes. However I now remember that this call had welcomed me when I came to Malaysia one year ago. How time flies, it has already been a year since I came here and it is time to take stock. What are my impressions? The first thing that strikes you as you enter the country through the KLIA is the wonderful infrastructure that has been built up. The highways are better than anything I have seen in the West, and most of the other infrastructure is also impressive. It is now a semi developed country, far ahead of India or any other South Asian country. It was raining than too, just as it does every day now. And well it might as this is the rainy season: so the first lesson to be learnt here is that the seasons simply do not resemble anyth

There are, I am told about half million Bangladeshi workers in Malaysia today. New entrants have been barred after the Global economic downturn began to bite. Still everywhere you go , in Malaysia, Bangladeshis are seen working: in supermarkets , in the construction industry, as janitors, household help and a hundred other professions that do not attract Malaysians. There are also a fairly large number of Nepali immigrants who work mainly in the private security services. I meet them mainly in the local Carrefour supermarket where I go for my weekly grocery shopping. There are boys from Comilla, Mymensingha, Jessore and every other part of Bangladesh. I like talking to them as we share a common language. I also like to know where they come from because the names evoke memories of my maternal grandparents and my mum’s stories of the lost East Bengal which was part of our country not so long ago. Last week I spent some time chatting with two of them at the local supermarket. They