Phone peril

Whenever I prepare to take a bath, especially a long one during this scorching heat, why does the phone ring? Many a time I thought not to take the call, as it would have been much a problem to me, like anyone else. Whenever I think not to receive it, it has to be that of either the boss, or my friends. And the worst part is that when with a towel in hand, another around my waist, I come out of the bathroom to receive a call the other day, someone ordered me over the phone to send a dozen of slippers to his shop! Patiently I told him that I don’t deal in slippers, or for that matter any kind of shoes — though they are pretty popular these days for throwing at political leaders — he was not ready to agree!

The usual "wrong number" call that we get at our house is quite interesting. "Customer id C1234. How is the supply? Will I get it by next week?" We are bombarded with questions before I could say anything. "The last time, it was bad, as I didn’t expect that your company serviceman would ask for Rs 10 bribe just to deliver it a day in advance. Why don’t you stop sending him? Sack him." Without losing my temper, I tell the lady on the other side of the cradle: "Sorry auntie, it’s not the LPG booking centre."

One such funny incident happened with one of my colleagues, whose cellphone number is almost identical to that of a national low-cost airline. Tired of telling people throughout the day that he does not take any booking for Calcutta-Mumbai sector for Re 1, one night he could not help but informing a gentleman that his early morning flight was late by five hours!

With technology, the telephone has become a problem tool to many of us. We hardly care about one’s privacy, as we don’t think twice to call a person at 6am, thinking everybody loves to see the spectacular sunrise in a polluted city like Calcutta every morning. But I know many a people who don’t use a phone, forget its mobile version, in this small world of today. But I still wonder how do they communicate with people when necessary? Can we live without our cellphones even a single day? Can you?

©Supratim Pal, 2009

Present, past & future

Let’s say his name is Samir. A very common Bengali name, for Samir is neither a very rare person, nor a unique one. But why did I choose him to bring his story on the cyber space? The fifty-something "youth" started his public life in a theatre on the northern outskirts of Calcutta.

His stage was not in the semi-dark hall of the theatre, but he used to be omnipresent around the cinema, especially when some blockbusters movies were screened. Nobody could even watch the first-day-first-show Big B film without patronising him. He was the ruler of tickets: when the counter would open even after the scheduled time to sell tickets, how many of them were to be sold and of course, the price!

Well, we are talking about the late 1970s when there was a ceiling on the highest price of a ticket. The government used to control the cinemas unlike now when a multiplex owner here can even charge Rs 500 for a first-day ticket of an SRK film. But even in the era of government strictures with tickets being priced at paise, not even rupees, Samir was the hero outside the cinema. During that time, he could have surpassed any mid-level executive with his monthly earnings.

I met Samir just a few days back at one of the roadside tea stalls near my home. Its owner asked him to bring some fresh water from a municipality tap before introducing the man to me, a regular to his stall. I could not believe that Samir, the ruler of black tickets, has been rendered to such a frail, beggar-like self. But such is the reality that he has now lost everything, even his mental balance, as the cinema was shut down about five years ago. All these years, he didn’t go for any other job, too, thinking the once-crowded single-screen cinema would provide him another fair chance to feed his family. But it did not. Neither was it reopened even after a series of protests, nor was the fortune wheel of Samir — by then an addict to drinks — was turned. Like the thousands of workers in Dunlop, scores of jute mills and other factories in the industrial belt known once as the best only second to London.

Samir is Bengal’s past; his is the image also that of Bengal’s future.

©Supratim Pal, 2009

Tourism, in nature’s lap

For years, i thought why during vacations we go only to places teeming with people. Is there a place where we can spend our short or long breaks from usual schedule? It’s always difficult to find a far-from-the-madding-crowd tourist destination, yet with basic amenities. But we were lucky to get one, and many others, in the past few months.

For this part of the world, eco-tourism is a new concept, which is hardly a decade old. Some people, including so-called promoters of the idea, don’t understand it in letter and spirit. Last week, I went to a place in a Burdwan village, which was turned into a profit-making eco-tourism project by chopping off eucalyptus and other trees. The promoters got acres of land leased out to them by the state forest department for 30 years around five years ago. The region is rich in ancient terracotta temples on the bank of the Ajoy, one of the major flood-causing rivers in the district. This particular tourist spot, with artificial parks carved out from dense forests once dominated by dacoits even 20 years ago, attracts Bengali middle class families unaware of their misdeed to destroy Nature in patronising economic development of local villagers. True, local economy has changed with this sprawling farmhouse-cum-park-cum-tourist rest house with concrete cottages. But how much are we paying for it? Only in terms of some papers with marks of Gandhi on both sides of these?

Take the example of Bhalopahar in Purulia or Babli and Banalakshmi in Santiniketan. The places are arid in nature, but if you visit it even in scorching summer when the temperature soars past 48˚C, you will not be disappointed by the green foliage it offers. While Banalakshmi was conceptualised by one Niranjan Sanyal about 40 years ago on the outskirts of Santiniketan, the place was dry with infertile land prompting villagers to do everything apart from agriculture. Same is the story with Bhalopahar till one poet Kamal Chakraborty bought land there ushering in green revolution unforeseen before. Now, one can stay at the places for a weekend trip and help both local economy and tourism to grow. Even if there are no tourists for months (as it is quite common in summer), inhabitants of these places can sustain with farm products. Tourism does not necessarily mean uprooting plants and build huge concrete structures, but protecting nature at its best.

In this forum, I request readers to come up with experience and suggestions of eco-tourism projects that you visited in India or abroad.

©Supratim Pal, 2009