That's all folks

A confirmed Delhiite, I have no connection with Calcutta or West Bengal, except for some exposure to Bengali songs such as Rabindra Sangeet, polli geeti (folk songs) and ganasangeet (people’s songs) passed down through various generations in the family whose ancestors had left Bengal way back in search of livelihood and settled down in a state now called Uttarakhand. The elders in the family took extra care to instill in us a love for Bengali literature, more so as we did not have ‘live touch’ with our literature and culture, as we were being brought up in north India. In college and after, interest in films and theatre led to the opening of another window into Bengali culture – Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, Mrinal Sen and so on and theatre by greats such as Shambhu and Tripti Mitra, Badal Sircar, Utpal Dutt, Arun Mukherjee and Rudraprasad Sengupta. There was this picture of Calcutta that was always etched in the mind…day-to-day struggle for a better life, fluttering red flags, protests, processions, bandhs, debates and discussions or addas on burning topics and, of course, romance in the midst of all this. Most of this was somehow associated with a gentleman called Jyoti Basu, the longest serving chief minister of West Bengal. The Communist leader was so much a part of anything and everything connected with the Bengal of our growing up year – good or bad. There were slogans, wall writings, sarcastic poems, satirical songs around his name ‘jyoti’. He was 95 when he died on Sunday, and probably lived what people call a ‘full’ life. So, when an old aunt called up and said “shei din-kaal shesh” (those days are gone), it got me thinking. Better days ahead for the state, or worse? I realised what she meant when I read a newspaper report on ‘business as usual’, a la Mumbai, in the once politically and emotionally charged ‘City of Joy’, even as Basu’s body was being taken around in a hearse on Sunday. Well, tomorrow is another day.