Reflections

When we recently visited the Jaldapara wildlife sanctuary, we noted the large number of Simul trees that dot the forest. The simul is my favourite tree. For most of the year it arises majestically full of leaves and gives plenty of shade. Anybody who has walked in the forests of Purulia will remember how welcome its shade can be after a long walk. Come spring, however, it loses its leaves and becomes full of a mass of crimson coloured flowers. The transition is sudden and the flowers bloom lighting up the forest or the garden. These trees tend to grow in clusters all of whom bloom together so that a patch of forest may turn red when they flower. The flowers also fall below the tree and turn a patch of grass into a red carpet that is a sight that is ethereal. The trees are tall and majestic and the trunk is studded with spike like projections. There is a story current in Oriya tribal lore about how the tree got these projections. A tribal king chased a demon onto the tree. As he climbed

When I stopped eating the salt of the West Bengal Government (or, to put it less dramatically, when I resigned from Government service,) I had hoped that I would never have to enter a West Bengal Government office again. This was wishful thinking, because when I came back to West Bengal in 2004 to live in Siliguri, and bought an apartment here, it was imperative to visit several offices, those of the Registrar, the State Electricity board and so on. Let me tell you of my experience a couple of days ago when I visited the offices of the State Electricity Board at Matigara, an outlying suburb of Siliguri. The work I had there should have taken all of three minutes. I had to pay a sum of money at the cash office and then get a form endorsed by the clerk in charge of the Office. The office is supposed to start functioning from 10 AM, so I went at 11. The person who was supposed to accept the money had not yet arrived. The cashier assured me that he would be there by 11 AM. When I looked pu

So, what seemed inevitable over the past few weeks has happened, Bark Obama has won the elections and will be USA’s first (half) Black President. The newspapers and the websites are full of the historical significance of the victory. It is significant, no doubt, in many ways. He had to defeat the Democratic Party machine which was all for Hillary Clinton, and then the Republicans. What with the popularity (or otherwise) of George Bush and the economic crisis, this was the easier battle. If we read today’s newspapers, it would appear that we are at the dawn of a new era where Aslan will rule and all will be well in the Kingdom of Narnia. However before being carried away by the euphoria, let us draw some lessons from history. The last time that a US Presidential election caused such a hullabaloo was when a peanut farmer from Georgia won the elections. No matter what sort of person he may have been, Jimmy Carter was a lousy president. He also presided over a decline of the liberals that

The city of Siliguri has no bus service. To go from Point A to Point B you have to use either smoke belching auto rickshaws or the cycle rickshaws. While the latter are an environment friendly and poor friendly option, it is not a convenient option if you are in a hurry or have to travel long distances. (Incidentally when I say poor friendly, I am talking about the rickshaw pullers, not of the passengers as the fare structures are much higher than in Autos.) You can, of course walk; Siliguri is, after all, not a city of huge distances, but at acute risk to life and limb. The footpaths on Sevoke Road and Hill Cart road are occupied by the business of commerce, and there are no footpaths anywhere else. You can cycle, but again cycling in Siliguri with the crazy autorickshaws and even madder Shaktimans is an adventure sport. I for one prefer to adventure at Himalayan heights, rather than on the streets of Siliguri. The only thing that can make a Siligurian (somebody suggest a better name,