Chasing Temples in the Capital of Mallabhum (Bishnupur) – 1

Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

4 day trip including journey dates – 20/12/2017 – 23/12/2017

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day4

Twenty four structures including temples, ruins and a museum in town; a temple 25 km to the north-west, another 10kms to the northeast, a village 22 km to the south-west and a popular pilgrimage 43 km to the south-east; that’s all we had planned for the 3 day trip to one of West Bengal’s hottest tourist destination in winter – The temple town Bishnupur.

Bishnupur town is around 200kms in the northwest direction from Kolkata located in the district of Bankura (one of 23 districts of WB) that is included in the area known as ‘Rarh’ in West Bengal, India. ‘Rarh’ popularly means ‘land of the red soil’. Bankura finds a mention in Mahabharata where it is called as ‘Suhmobhumi’.

We started on a Wednesday, last December, early in the morning and boarded a train from Shalimar station. The station gets its name from Shalimar Paints; who have painted the Rashtrapati Bhavan, the Howrah Bridge, the AIIMS and many other prestigious structures since 1902. One can still see their dilapidated guest house and grounds near the station.

The train was on time, we hopped on to it and settled the little luggage we had on the rack above our seats. I directed my gaze towards the tea stall where the mob was, interestingly it was called Pillai tea stall. Rajib went to get us the steaming cuppas. A helpful gentleman educated me about the terminal station which had a name, that I thought was quite funny – Bhojudih.

Bhojudih is in Jharkhand. It is surrounded by three rivers, Damodar, Ijari and Guwai. It also has a famous kund (lake) that our epic Mahabharata hero ‘Arjuna’ created while the ‘Pandavas’ were in exile.

The journey in a reserved chair car on a winter morning is promising from the word go. I missed my boy, who loves trains just as we do. We omitted him from the trip as he would get bored spending hours around the brick temples as we study, survey and document each of them from every angle, brick to brick.

I suggested we move out right after lunch so as to be able to cover the huge list, but Rajib was craving for a little rest after the good meal. Lunch was simple yet delicious. Daal(pulses), aalu-posto(poppy seed curry), aalu-bhaja(finger chips, really thin) and a fish curry. The WBTDC lodge is the favorite eat out for day tourists as well.

The train having reached almost on time we had checked into WBTDC lodge after a medium rickshaw ride from the station that is to say the distance was neither short nor too long.

So we went into the AC deluxe room with a full stomach, body yearning to retire having been subjected to activity since the wee hours of the morning, put on the AC and slept off.

At about 3ish in the afternoon we pulled ourselves up from the alluring comfort of the bed, got ourselves and our gear ready and came out to conquer the land of the Malla Kings, Bishnupur was the capital of Mallabhum for almost a thousand years; and the sun gave us a wink! He was taking an early off and we were caught unawares. It was no good for photography.

Stunned by the sun’s stance we decided to just walk around heartbroken and headed to the museum that is less than a km down the alley from the guest house. It was open but photography was allowed. It’s a nice old structure with many artifacts.

Dihar, around 10-12 km north of Bishnupur was a site of human habitation as the Chalcolithic people settled on the north banks of the river Dwarakeswar by 1000 BCE. Excavations have revealed many utensils and tools used in those and later times. Some are on display at the museum.

The stone and brick sculptures we saw at the museum had interesting formations and names. They were mostly Shiva and other Gods from Hindu mythology alongside the ‘Jain tirthankars’.

Once out of the museum we walked along the directions on the roadmap and also google maps to reach a group of temples we knew was lurking somewhere around the corner amidst the development happening in terms of apartment sites scattered here and there.

We walked beside a school/college campus that was big and a very old one too, stretching from the beginning of the road till the pond that was a long way ahead. It had many hostel blocks and grounds, that’s definitely a student’s delight.

Uncertain about the distance and the navigator girl at google which like Cuthbert’s pendulum kept on pointing north we decided to ask a human being and in a short while reached our destination.

We tried a few shots but the sun said “Sorry! Expiry underway” like the stockbroker who won’t let one buy or sell any more stalks after 4 pm and we just sank in the dusk amidst ages of history day 1 went by.

As we strolled back to the hotel this time by another route, we passed by a live temple which was rather crowded and had many shops adjacent to it selling terracotta artifacts. I started peeping into them while Rajib quickly did a handy work with his camera getting snapshots of the goddess. Most live temples in India do not allow photography.

Chinnamasta Goddess

It was not until I had seen the picture Rajib shot that the name struck me, the goddess is called “chinnamasta” which means “severed head”. She is worshipped as a form of power and according to mythology had severed her own head to satisfy the hunger of her two mates, Varini and Dakini.

The road from the temple to the guest house had shops all along; apart from terracotta the shops also had “dokra” crafts; there were the famous “baluchori” and “bishnupuri” sarees, some woodcraft and the usual tea stalls and sweet shops.

Shop in Bishnupur

A mega fair was to start the day we were supposed to leave Bishnupur and it being on the grounds right opposite to the guest house there was a lot of hustle bustle, preparations were on a full swing. We indulged in local made sweets and chops, the medium of cooking showed its true colours a day later and we didn’t try to brave them ever again.

Accuweather predicted that the next two days were going to be foggy with the sun mostly working undercover. We sat down with the list of “to be visited” with a grim face, no sun meant no shoot and we had only two and a half days in hand.

It reminded me of our honeymoon trip. Traveller’s cheques were in vogue back then, but by the time we managed to visit the bank anticipating a probable cash crunch, it was closed; we were supposed to leave for Geyzing from Gangtok(Sikkim, India) the next day thus were left on a shoestring budget until we could get a bank that was operating.

Tsangu Lake, Gangtok 2002

Back then it was money and now it was time. We would have to be very prudent, take wise decisions using all our experience and ration time.

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day4

10 Days in Andaman – Port Blair – a deeper look – 23rd – 25th dec’19

Facts Figures and Touchdown || The Havelock Chapter || Jarwa Reserve || Baratang || Diglipur – North Andaman || Chidiya Tapu – South Andaman

By Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

It grew dark as we whiz past the jetty in Sanju’s car and as we were passing by the harbour front road with the sea on one side and a hill slope on the other, I wished if we could stay nearby and the wish came true! The Shelter Hotel is on the base of the hill slope which houses the Cellular Jail. The ‘honeymoon suit’ as they call it is just another double bedded room with a clean attached bathroom; but the balcony is a love affair for sure. It has a moderately good sit out option facing the sea, right across the road.

We freshened up and went out, heading for the ‘sound and light’ show at the cellular jail at 9pm. We needed to grab our dinner before that somewhere on the way. The road by the sea is both delightful and a bit scary for first timers like me, though the railings bracing the footpath were mostly present, the once that were broken did pose a danger. The breeze from the sea was strong and we felt the chill. There weren’t too many pedestrians or vehicles at this hour. At a junction the road bifurcated, one branched up the hill and we followed.

A short way up was the Cellular Jail, all lighted up. We got the tickets.

Our road went on bypassing the Cellular Jail and going down to meet that road which had continued straight on from the bifurcation. We went down that way and found a road side arena decorated with lights and umbrellas with many fast food stalls and sitting arrangement, we got some of it for dinner. The waterfront has many options for dinning. This is an interesting place, and is just a walk away from Aberdeen Bazaar. We explored this area after coming back from North Andamans.

The sound and light show brings alive the sufferings of the prisoners, the cruelty of the Jailer with dramatic narration and inspiring songs.

We came out with a heavy heart but the breeze and the distant lights in the dark, the huge Indian flag hoisted at the tip of the waterfront brought back the lively mood as we walked back to the hotel. Rajib and I sat in the balcony late into the night watching the ships anchored in the harbour. Some had dim lights, few had bright, and we could even see small boats sailing in the light of the stars. It was beautiful, mystic.

We almost started the day on the balcony again, we means me and Rajib, Anoushrayan as I have said earlier has eyes for only kindle; he came, he saw and said a brief nice before rushing back to his beloved.

Luckily to our left was the fresh catch fish market, so we got a glimpse of a lively merchandise exchange. A boat was anchored at the opening of the wall / railing on the footpath. It had many varieties of fishes which had been caught fresh. The boatmen, two of them were busy segregating them and they didn’t finish until we left for our day tour, which would be about an hour. The retail sellers were mostly women in their brightly coloured sarees. People came in small and big cars, all residents of Port Blair. Some bought directly from the boat man as the ladies were busy setting up their shops. Some were waiting patiently and slowly the place that had a quite sleepy start was bustling with activity.

The plan was to see the museums and enjoy some water sports. We didn’t go for water sports in Havelock, which was definitely a mistake we realised later. I was particularly interested about the sea walk which didn’t need any swimming or diving experience. But we came to know only after reaching North Bay Island that it has been stopped after some unfortunate incidents.

Sanju, who by now had almost become a chauffeur, was ready at the gate. We drove off to the island of Chatham, which is connected by a land bridge over the sea. Chatham is where the felled trees are cut into sizes as is in demand and sent out to far far away lands on ships. Chatham is where the first and the second penal settlements were established. Chatham is where the 200 prisoners first landed on 10th March 1858. The date is still celebrated as the foundation day of Port Blair and those prisoners are considered the ancestors of modern residents of Andaman.

At Chatham one needs to buy tickets to enter through the gate, there is a nice little museum stuffed with photographs with information on various important things and places and people of Andaman and Nicobar. It has many beautiful articles on display, majority being things made of the famous ‘Padouk’ wood that is indigenous to the Andamans. At a time only 20 people are allowed inside.

//——–We saw many Padouk trees on our journey to Baratang and further north to Rangat and Diglipur, but could not identify even one on my own, however hard Sanju tried to educate me.—–//

Then there is the bunker to hide from the Japanese bombing, the huge ditch created by the Japanese bomb that fell on Chatham and mostly destroyed it and last but not the least one gets a walkthrough of the saw mill. Huge bundles of logs, huge machines to cut and polish them, it is a fascinating place and definitely not that one gets to see on a day to day basis. It is not a tourist destination by definition, but an amazing experience.

The curio shop has items made of the Padouk wood, it has the cheapest and the best collection in town. We bid farewell to this historic island with loads of souvenir to visit another, Ross Island. The motor boats take 6 / 7 passengers, first to Ross then to North Bay and back to Port Blair. While Ross is where the Brits had their headquarters, living quarters, entertainment arena which is all in ruins now, having been captured by the Japanese for a brief period and then finally abandoned; North Bay is for water sports ranging from scuba diving to visiting the marine life in submarines.

Ross Island has many things for the ones like us who are interested in ruins. It has a haunted feeling about it. It also has peacocks and deer roaming about. Beware the coconut is way too expensive in Ross. From Ross we went to North Bay.

Since underwater sea walking was not possible, we wanted to opt for Scuba. The norms don’t allow diabetics and hypertensive to go scuba diving thus we sat on the shores as Anoushrayan took the dip. It is expensive at 3500INR per person. The experience was not so great for my child as his braces hurt against the mouthpiece. We found many oldies with sugar and pressure taking the plunge not withstanding any warnings and coming out clean. We also saw many young girls and boys failing the test that is mandatory (to be able to follow basic instructions) before diving in.

One can go snorkelling, which is open to all as it doesn’t take one deep down but once again Havelock would be a better place to try all these.

Lunch was a quick affair on North Bay in one of the make shift shacks but it was good to taste.

We were transferred to a submarine parked a little way into the sea by a motor boat; though there is a great deal of marine life to be enjoyed and the boat belly where we were seated was taken very close to the bottom of the sea exposing a multitude of corals and fishes and plants; the sapiens inside the belly were too noisy and unsettling in contrast to the vibrant calm outside. I puked and realised that land, plain land not mountains not on fast moving vehicles – is where I belong, neither the sky nor the oceans.

The moment the submarine ride ended we were almost snatched off and ushered into our motor boat, our co-passengers were a tolerant lot muttering the grudges only under their breath, in the morning they had to wait for us for a whole 2 hrs, while we took our time at the Chatham saw mill, in the afternoon another two as they didn’t engage in any sports. That is how they gather the passengers; 2 here 2 there to make 6 or 7 in all, our co-passengers where a family of 4 so they had to wait for us 3.

Once back on the island of Port Blair we rushed to the Anthropological Museum, as all museums close by 5pm and we had just about an hour to spare. It is a fine building which houses many artefacts that the different tribes of Andaman and Nicobar have been using since time immemorial. We also saw the models / photographs of the men women and children, belonging to different tribes that were and are residents of the Andamans. But the most interesting was the model of the boat called the outrigger canoes. It helped these people to brave the seas, then and even today. Photography is strictly prohibited inside the museum.

By now we were hungry as a hippo. We had only grabbed a cucumber at the waterfront after de-boarding the boat; the most expensive cucumber I have had in my life. All through Andamans cucumbers are extensively expensive, most other food items raw or cooked are not. The auto dropped us at Aberdeen Bazaar and we walked through the busy streets lined with shops on both sides. We found a good looking restaurant, had our fill, bought some cheap tshirts written Andaman and Nicobar on it of varying sizes and colours for ourselves.

The next day we were supposed to head on to Baratang, so we picked up some cash and bakery stuff. In Andaman we had to fish out cash everywhere except The Taj. We picked a few souvenirs on the way back to the hotel and skipped dinner. Once again we enjoyed sitting in the balcony and gazing out at the lights from the ships and the stars and the dark waters and the light house that stood at the edge of the island opposite to us, for the last time.

Facts Figures and Touchdown || The Havelock Chapter || Jarwa Reserve || Baratang || Diglipur – North Andaman || Chidiya Tapu – South Andaman

Short Story: B for Botticelli

By Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

“How to say Botticelli? Is it ‘ke’ as in ‘kettle’ or ‘se’ as in ‘sell’?” asked a confused Ranganathan.

“Google it man,” answered Hari who was busy solving a problem.

“Why don’t you oblige him Anurag? Pronunciation is your forte!” Padam said laughing out loud.

“What did you say? Its ‘ge’ so say like you would in ‘page’ not like ‘se’ as in ‘revise’, Padam you are impossible!” Anurag said in an irate voice.

“Tell me how does it matter?” Padam got serious.

“It shows your class my dear good man.” Anurag said with an air of supremacy.

Hari saw the onset of an eminent bull fight between Padam amd Anurag and chipped in, “I have a splitting head ache guys, can we have this rather serious discussion tomorrow please.”

Ranganathan smirked. He knew Hari the pacifier too well.

——————–

While in class the four roommates sat in a row, however opinionated they might be, it was hard to find them apart, as if bound by the weak nuclear force.

The English language teacher was reading an excerpt from ‘Hamlet’ by Shakespeare. Anurag was very pleased with their teacher, as his pronunciation was impeccable. Padam on the other hand found it too dramatic and unrealistic. Ranganathan was very confused as it was totally out of his radar. Hari just went with the flow and was neither overwhelmed nor at a loss.

Soon it was time for the annual break and the four went home. As they came back their rooms had been shuffled and they got separated.

——————–

“So do you often check the pronunciation for different words?” Jayesh asked.

“Not really, I try to imitate. I hear renowned people speaking often.” Nitin answered.

Anurag was about to say it is pronounced as ‘offen’ without the ‘t’ and not ‘of-ten’ but he just didn’t feel like.

————————

“How do we say ‘schedule’? is it ‘she’ or ‘ske’?” Ranganathan was always confused.

There were no answers as his roommates were not bothered about such silly things.

————————-

Padam was reading a novel, engrossed in its story but he could not but ignore overhearing Ishan saying aloud, “On Wednesday we are going for a picnic!”

The emphasis on ‘D’ made Padam uncomfortable, he had been warned by Anurag many time to omit the ‘d’ in Wednesday, ‘its just Wenz-day’ he would say.

But Padam was in no mood to correct Ishan or any body for that matter.

Hari the pacifier was also in the same sorry state as the others. With none to pacify, his life was dull too.

————————–

It was just before the winter hols that the four got an opportunity to meet up and sit for a good time together. They shared their experiences and Padam made sure he made mistakes intentionally. Anurag corrected him to his heart’s content also doubtful that the mistakes were somewhat intentional. Ranganathan took out his notebook to clear all his doubts which were eagerly entertained and Hari overwhelmingly fired the discussions to heat up only to pacify them.

After a while, the discussion turned to ‘why were they not able to have the same fun with the other roommates?’

Ranganathan started speaking in his horrid English but none paid attention to it, as what he said made perfect sense, “We are friends first, second comes language and third comes pronunciation. At heart we want to talk. We make big talk out of small things.”

Anurag was ecstatic, “Well said my friend! After all said and done language is to communicate. We may try to perfect it, we may try to master it in order to be called elite, but without friends, without the people we care for and who care for us even the most beautiful language loses its sheen.”

With that they all screamed in unison as if they had rehearsed but in reality it came out spontaneously – “Botticelli”

Though Botticelli would have turned in his grave had he been subjected to hear his name in the weirdest possible pronunciations!  

As I Woke Up an Aspiring Author

One fine morning… well not really, it was more like I had been brooding over for a couple of days, months actually – what do I become? A little late do you think? Given that am 45. Yes!!! The August of 2020, the year of the Corona… I reached the magic number – but no celebrations… bhoo ooo ooo. Okay that’s enough of crying.

The question of ‘what do I become’ came up so late in life because I actually realized what I want to do pretty late, in the rather recent past. Fortunately or unfortunately I was a good academic, so I excelled in whatever I tried doing, but my heart didn’t go with it. So I left it, left them all – I have quite an interesting agglomeration of degrees and certificates. Am an eccentric who needs to love what is being done or must have a dire need, like a family crisis to love what I am doing.

So I didn’t become anything, money and position have never motivated me and I was perfectly happy having a loving spouse who does all the hard work of making a living for us. I handle the family finance portfolio though and you know by now that I love the job as I have been continuing it for the past 18 years. I also love to organize and plan; so the household and its inmates, my child(13 years old) and spouse, to be precise live in a closely monitored strict regime.

I love activity, I always wanted to live on the edge… but that never happened, and now when I am reaching midlife – I believe I’ll live to be 90… at the least! I suddenly have the wish to become something, such that I can say like ‘Evelyn’ in ‘The Mummy(1999 movie)’ –    “Evelyn: Look, I… I may not be an explorer, or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker, or a gunfighter, Mr. O’Connell, but I am proud of what I am.
Rick: And what is that?
Evelyn: I… am a librarian.”

An astronomer, a zoo-keeper, or an artist – these are the three choices – I want to be any one of these. A zoo-keeper the most, I love animals. But alas! my situation physically and mentally doesn’t allow me to step out of home or go all out to chase wild dreams. They are not dreams actually, just the things I could have been and enjoyed, given sufficient effort and time.

And then it came to me, no not like a lightning bolt, but from friends and family who have read my small narratives that if I put my heart and some years to it, I could become a writer! That would not exactly be being an artist but definitely close – it is creative after all!

Thus in the wake of my new found enthusiasm, I wrote my first novella…