Memoirs of Meerut

: “If you live away from the place of your identity then you live a life of refugee.”

 My friend said once. He is correct in many aspects. It’s has been more than twelve years since I left Assam. Most of the time there is paucity of time to spend enough time in home during my home visit.  I have missed most of the Bihu, Uruka bhoj, marriage and other moment of crisis where my presence in Guwahati is required.  In many places my family is the only family who can speak in Assamese in the city. Even if you live amongst friend and family it’s a kind of emptiness within.

“Once you start to live in a place, you start developing roots “the other day my friend said in a contradictory statement

That’s also true...

I lived in Dehradun from 2007to 2012. The city had nostalgia of my youth hood. The atmosphere at that time resembled much that of Guwahati in 90s. The landscape, simplicity of locals suited my temperament.  Besides developing professional skills and propagating in my profession out here I was acquainted with the rules of the jungle with end number of visit to Rajaji National Park and sometime Corbett national Park.  Developed lots and lot of friends and well-wisher and almost in a time where the feeling was as such that I belong here I shifted to Meerut.  (And in the meanwhile my much elongated journey as a bachelor also finished in Dehradun only.)

2012 to 2018 I was in Meerut.

I was little bit apprehensive in the beginning, but gradually roots developed here too.  Abu lane, Begam pull, shoprix mall gradually got incorporated in our daily lingo. Street food or Moglai dishes, Fish market came handy and also the proximity to Delhi was the very helpful while connecting to the main land. There were occasional news of gunshot, here and there or lifting of chain /car here and there in the news paper, there were history of riots. Only once I was shocked by such news when owner of a pharmacy which I frequented was shot dead by some miscreant.  No such thing bothered us during those six years.

In personal front..both of my child Pratysh and Pokhi were borne here

As far as professional achievement was concerned, out here also I was lucky... my seniors supported me , juniors believed me, support staff  gave me faith overall teamwork was awesome during numerous milestone (Infection control , NABL, NABH , others ) we covered together .

With my students too I had their faith, in my personal moment of crisis like when my son was sick, everyone stood beside me like a rock.

Shifting is a big physical and mental stress. With every year things I have acquired has compounded ..and this time it is with two kids its been a Herculean task ..

Just in a time when I began to have my roots entangled in Meerut...I shifted again...this time to Bharatpur, Rajasthan …

Rolling  stone? Destiny …. Don’t know

But life continues, like a river flows    

Playwrights note Aikyatan- The Beethoven of someone’s heart

The ideas a play wishes to reflect originates in the sensibilities

of the playwright. Yet he has an uneasy feeling that directorial liberty

has intruded and distorted his ideas. Even the actors tend to oppose

the playwright’s or the director’s viewpoints. None questions the

individuality of the performer. But once out of the green room and on

stage, an actor’s opinions are straight jacketed and he has to transform

himself into a puppet, controlled by the ventriloquist duo of the

playright and the director. Only thus can be kept intact the sensitivity

of a subject oriented play.

But when these very puppets spring to life and transmogrify

into unleashed powerhouses of emotions, who emasculates them?

The director can clip the wings of the actor. But can he convincingly

ensoul the characters as envisioned by the playwright ? So,

does the theatre stage turns into Armageddon for the conflicting dogmatism

of the actors, the playwright and the director ?

Some such ubiquitous antipathies are behind the nascence of

Gitanjali, Betaal, Beraag and Aikyataan – beings from the land of the

mind, who asks : are we the corpses of a cultural death ? Are our

artists the carcasses of art?

We hear resigned sighs in the affirmative.

So, against this fatalism we hereby launch our crusade.

Plyawrits note

Aikyatan

An Assamese musical play

From Satyanusandhan a collection of Play in Assamese

Distributor Bandhab ,Panbazar

Price :Rs.180

Satyanusanndhan :Coolection of SIx plays in Assamese

My new book Satyanusandhan (সত্যানুসন্ধান), a collection of plays has reached the store.

It is Distributed by: Bandhav  ,Panbazar (বান্ধৱ, পাণবজাৰ)

Interested readers can go through the book and will be obliged if you give your valuable feedback (Whatever the cynicism, criticism it may be please do discuss in open)

Few of our readers are not acquainted with reading ASSAMESE drama (I don’t claim to be a master craft though) but reading plays can be a enchanting experience.

Why this new book?

“We have entered a post truth age, searching for truth has become obscured idea

Post truth phenomenon has entered the world of performance art so as in plays  

Has it hindered the importance of written word (or playwright as a whole?)

That makes documentation of this search for truth (সত্যানুসন্ধান), necessity.

Name :Satyanusandhan

Page no : 208

Price :180 only 

It contains three full length Play

one each -One act Play ,Children's Play and a Street Play

 

Publisher :Bhargavi Prakashan ,Assam contact :bhargaviassam@gmail.com

Distributor :Bandhav ,Panbazar,Guwahati , conatact bandhavpublication@gmail.com

Choking air and us

I live in Meerut, some 60 km away from Delhi and I was just wondering that age is taking toll on my health. Since last four days there is a general sense of fatigue, breathlessness, sense of not being well and slight cough. As temperature is changing a little children are also coughing and sneezing.  On top of it the children are also waking up alternately at night, crying and coughing.  After helping them to sleep again there is a feeling of suffocation in the air that is not relived even after opening the door. Then we have to wake up early in the morning for school and work feeling lethargic for the whole next day. This has become a vicious cycle.

On the top, it has been all smoky and smoggy even inside our house. Not to speak of outside.

 I could hardly see anything in the morning; in the noon forget the evening or the night. I could see every children coughing as they are waiting for school bus. But temperature is not that low as it seems in the photographs .  

 A layer of mist covered my car window; I wiped it clean only to find a layer of black dirt being erased.

Frosted dirt we are breathing in

Are these the air we are breathing in! I asked my young students –they are also feeling the same.

Then the pollution news started pouring in and there was some paradoxical relive. Hey may be its not my age, anyway I am never that old.

Another paradox may be my car, my refrigerator my life style is contributing to these.

Then comes today’s TOI head line ….DELHI_YOU_ARE_ KILLING_ ME

May God bless us #