After all these years I cannot quite recall at what age I first
became acquainted with his creations. It must be very early childhood. My uncle used
to bring home his books from his office library. My first experience with Feluda
happened like that. My first crush. Ever. Even after so many years that tall,
dark, deviously intelligent man with Charminar hanging from his lips can turn
me on like no other man in the world. And yet, the pure innocence of those
feelings has still remained the same. Life’s harshness could not be able to
touch that treasure box hidden safely away in one corner of a very Bengali
little girl’s heart.
My father had promised me the newly published Golpo 101 if I
performed well in the upcoming board examination. At that age, I could not
think of a more precious gift or a stronger motivation. My father’s proud
message for his little girl in his immaculate handwriting is still shining in
all its glory on the front page of that book.
And those old Anandmela from my father’s collection? Yes,
there is a reason why I so strongly hate the modern Anandamela and no longer
read that blasted magazine. Despite the risk of getting tagged as a non-intellectual
Bengali. Because I know how that magazine used to be like during its golden
age. Anybody who has read a full Shonku adventure on a Pujabarshiki Anandamela
along with author’s own illustration would puke at this new version stinking of
cheap marketing strategy and tomfoolery.
When did Tibet and its mysticism first claim my soul? Yes it
might have happened after my first trip to Sikkim. But its seed had probably been
sown the first time I read the great Bengali scientist Professor Shonku’s
adventure in the land of magic and mystery. How many times did I mentally travel
through the tricky terrains of the Gurla Mandhata range searching for Charles
Willard who claimed to have witnessed a unicorn in Tibet? I have a motto. Which
is a borrowed and modified version of an unforgettable quote by the father of
this great man. Whenever reality starts to suck, escape to Tibet. Not this
China occupied one though.
My first movie experience at a theatre? I vividly remember a
Ray Retrospective was going on at Nandan that time. My father took me to watch
Sonar Kella. I tasted the flavor of adventure for the first time on celluloid. That
was also the first time I came to know there was once a man on this earth named
Santosh Dutta.
There are times when I feel absolutely and unequivocally
proud to be a Bengali. When I look at the illustrations on the dilapidated cover
of an old Anandamela – the first time I saw them I thought they were drawn by a
child. Or when I read the adventures of an eccentric Bengali Scientist. Or when I
watch that masterpiece of a movie that depicted poverty, pain and loss like poetry
on celluloid. Or when I watch his interview on BBC – find me another Bengali or
an Indian who can speak such wonderful English with so much grace and eloquence.
Yes I am proud to be a Bengali. Because we have Him.
Wish you a very happy birthday, Mr. Satyajit Ray.
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