Reflections

The pictures are of a krishnachura in full bloom and of a Kalboishakhi There are two times of the year when I miss my native Bengal the most. At all other times I can be severely critical of my country, but during the New Year and the Pujas, I cannot but remember only the positives of my country. And I am not ashamed to say that during these times, “my country” shrinks to Bengal, I may include Bangladesh in this, but while I am proud of my Bharat, in this case I mean Bengal. The Poila Boishak brings the New Year to Bengal. It is also the start of the summer. The mellow winds of the Basanta (spring) season give way to the blazing sun of the Grishya (summer). The Mango flowers are now gone and the fruit hangs from the trees. The trees are full of unripe mangoes that then slowly ripen and by the end of the summer will be available in the markets. I spent a half year in Malda, the home of the finest mangoes in Bengal, in the early years of my career. The health centre I worked in was surr...

There is a marvelous editorial in the journal Current Science dated April 10th 2010. The editorialist describes how in the good old days he used to come to the library of the Indian Institute of Science and go from shelf to shelf looking for a reference and he describes the sense of “feeling” newly arrived journals which had a distinctive smell and touch. There is sea change today as all journals have gone electronic and can be accessed on the net as soon as they are published and with the “e pub ahead of print” revolution, even before the formal print publication. It set off a train of memories for me as well. I remember the days of our thesis writing. The IPGMER , where I did my PG had a fairly decent library and the past journal issues were bound and well catalogued. The only problem was that it only went back to 1957 when it was founded. If we needed to consult anything before that, we had to go to one of the other libraries in the city. One of them was the Calcutta Medical Club...

Indians must be among the rudest people on Earth and among Indians, we Bengalis must be among the worst. Some of the true blue Delhiwalla’s of course run us close, but while we may not win the IPL, or the National Football League, we stand alone in discourtesy and boorish behavior. It becomes especially evident if you live outside India. Here in Malaysia it is normal for people to talk to you courteously, queue up behind you without showing any signs of impatience as you fumble around in the ATM, and people often smile at you if your eyes meet. I cannot imagine this happening in good old Calcutta. The first people you meet in Calcutta are the Immigration officials who scrutinize your passport for ages, for reasons best known to them. In Malaysia they let me enter the country in about 20 seconds and smile while they let me through, but when I try to enter my native city, they ask at least three irrelevant questions, leaf through all the pages of my passport with excruciating slowness a...