Showing posts with label tribute. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tribute. Show all posts

Friday, August 15, 2014

Remembering Fr Boris D'santos


I have known Fr Boris since his days of ailment – not a great time health wise but was enormously empowering for me and many like me who have been fortunate enough to have sat with him. He would always exude great positivity even when his health was failing him. His health was deteriorating and he had to visit the hospital often. I remember him sitting in recluse, composed and with a face that never ceased smiling. He would wait without complaint. The waiting times were the happy reminiscencing times. 

Father Boris was rendered the best possible med-help, and with Rev Brother Chintamani SJ around things were always sorted out. Brother is the best possible gift to theSt Xaviers  infirmary and he is the person who had been Father Boris’ companion til his last breath. 

When I last met Father Boris, he was extremely frail and feeble. Amidst that, he told me not to cease doing the work I was doing. That was the last time I saw him and the lifetime of virtue that he induced going to stay with me forever.

Rest in peace -Rev Fr Boris D'santos

1934 - 1914

Father Boris, the long-serving former vice-principal of St. Xavier’s Collegiate School, Calcutta, passed away on !3 August 2014. He was 80.

My rendevous with ST Xavier's College, Calcutta 

The day that was at ST Xavier's College, Calcutta 

Photo credit: St Xaviers

 

Thursday, June 13, 2013

In memoriam: Rituparno Ghosh

You are what you are.The demise of the director, actor, activist and one of the most creative people in recent times, Rituparno Ghosh, is not just another death. His death is the death of creativity, death of impeccable insightful peek into human psyche and death of poetry in prose.

Rituparno's life did not read like a poetry though. There was no rhetoric behind his conspicuous film and fashion statements. With all that pricks hard and deep, he finally got to live his life in his own terms. He may have critics that were more interested in his personal orientation than in his works, there may have been people who would look at him with aghast, there may have those who would demean him as manipulative, fame hungry, cross-dresser. But, at the same time, there also have been people who would continue to shed tears, stay still and stay speechless, with a dominating sense of deja vu and overwhelming awe after watching the new wave films. These are the same people who did not falter being critical every now and then.

"Chitrangada", the last film of Rituparno Ghosh, is essentially an befitting answer to all the askance. The other side? It has been an inspiration to many who share similar sexual orientation. He truly has lived his life like he has always wished to. However less a time, he has gotten to live his live in his own terms -  celebrating his sexuality with conviction, finally. This should be the only gratifying thing. How else, can we live without being part of his cinematic frames? One film per year - enough impetus for the whole year. Now, only shuffling through the ever new old films. Rituparno Ghosh we are never going to stop missing you.

RIP Rituparno Ghosh




Friday, January 27, 2012

Anirudhha - much hyped, Srijit - smart and Rituparno Ghosh - class apart and above

It would be unfair to compare the likes of Rituparno Ghosh with the, so to speak, newcomers like Anirudhha Roy Chowdhury and Srijit Mukherjee of Bengali new wave cinema. Rituparno Ghosh with his inimitable sensitive genre and superlative techniques is 'the man' in Bengali and Indian film fraternity. If we compare the first few films of Rituparno Ghosh with those of the other two, I find significant differences. Rituparno is a class beyond, a class above and the last of the originals. He is an original story teller and a great social psychoanalyst who would never miss anything when it comes to human psyche.

Three film famous Anirudhha Roy Chowdhury is a copybook film maker who likes to go into elaborate detailing of things rather than the quintessential human thought patterns. Even the alignment of the curtains or books in a rack is taken care of with ad film making precision. The crisp and calculate shots go to show the genius of the Ad film maker, if not anything more. The cinematography is highly plausible and so is the film music. The three films have shown traces of good work, a sign of good film architect. However, in totality, with all those precision and eye for details his works failed me. Sometimes, chaos is more coveted than perfection. Little bit of imperfection is OK at times.

Srijit Mukherjee, young and dynamic, is a promising director. His films touch delicate nuances of the human psyche. Beautiful rendition of imagery reflects his smart education. I feel, he has more potential and just two film old Srijit certainly has a long way to go. Snippets of class fill his films and at the end of it you get to like his work. The method in madness style has seemed to work for him. Good ears for music, great sense of editing and the ability to learn from the surroundings have made his films substantially persistent.Rituparno Ghosh has a class hard to achieve. He is truly the last of the originals. An unbelievable story teller, Rituparno has redefined the method and madness in his own terms. He has been able to move his audience convincingly from frame to frame. We, Bengalees, not only love his way of dealing with the art of film making but also appreciate the exquisite candid terms by which he lives his life. He is truly a Renaissance man.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving wouldn't be complete without thanking her

There lived a princess in the heart of the city of Calcutta in the eastern part of India. She had all the things in life – a loving father, 3 loving sisters, nephews, nieces, brothers, a big house, lot of books and the money to buy more and most of all the love of everyone around – everything that would make someone classically happy.

Then one day as she was getting ready to join her lovely sisters for a movie, she felt numbness on her legs. She fell down. Things followed rapidly there after. After several top doctors in the city were consulted, investigations procuring humongous bills were taken care of and after never ending sleepless nights, the top neurologists came to conclude that she was suffering from a rare type of neurological disease - Moyamoya disease(MMD).

In a matter of one year, she started to feel enormously weak and numb. She succumbed at home several times and had to be hospitalized few times. She was ventilated and weaned off after stormy periods. On all occasions, she was hassled, humiliated and treated like a vegetable. Now, she rests in an ICU facilitated bed at home, cared by her father, sisters and full time expensive and expert nurses. The room has suction tube, syringe pumps, ryle’s tube mechanics, all that a proper ICU must have.

A lot could be said about the medical mal treatment, mis diagnosis, lack of medical expertise and callous practices. We all know how it goes. Maligning is easy. Today however, I want to thank her who is living it all numb, unaware, yet not dead. Her fleeting smile (that’s once in a blue moon on seeing her father) is the reason her father is still fighting it along with her. He has stents to take care of his clogged arteries, he has a lot many instructions to abide by and he is not left with much money now. Still, he never does miss his dose of medicine so that he might not miss his daughter’s dose. He spends nearly 50K per month for her beautiful daughter. He is failing now with aches and pains catching up every now. But, he should never give up on the hope. That’s what has made both father and daughter so much more alive than many of us and so painfully beautiful.


Moyamoya disease was first identified in Japan. It occurs most frequently in patients from Japan and Korea. Moyamoya disease is a rare vascular disorder characterized by the progressive narrowing of the blood vessels in the circle of Willis (the ring of arteries at the base of the brain). The result is irreversible blockage of the carotid arteries to the brain as they enter into the skull. Moyamoya disease primarily affects children, but may also occur in adults ages 20 to 40.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Tomas Transtromer: Metaphysical visionary poet wins Nobel

Tomas Transtromer, the Swedish poet, sometimes oblivious and sometimes real and powerful, won the 2011 Nobel Prize in Literature for 2011. Even though well known in Sweden (and a strong contender for the prize for many years now) his works have been published in English, the poet is not on the known list for the poetry readers. Currently, I have the opportunity to read through a few of his poems. The nature transcends beautifully into the real world with a distinctive theme of isolation and togetherness. His poetry is universal and he lives poetry.

Mr. Transtromer, 80, has written more than 15 collections of poetry, many of which have been translated into English and 60 other languages.

“His poetry is both universal and particular, it’s complex but very direct at the same time. He’s worked for much of his life as a psychologist, and the work is characterized by very strong psychological insight into humanity.”

Two Cities

There is a stretch of water, a city on each sideƐ
one of them utterly dark, where enemies live.
Lamps are burning in the other.
The well-lit shore hypnotizes the dark shore.

I swim out in a trance
on the glittering dark water.
A steady note of a tuba comes in.
It's a friend's voice: "Take up your grave and walk."


Storm

The man on a walk suddenly meets the old
giant oak like an elk turned to stone with
its enormous antlers against the dark green castle wall
of the fall ocean.

Storm from the north. It's nearly time for the
rowanberries to ripen. Awake in the night he
hears the constellations far above the oak
stamping in their stalls.

The Half-Finished Heaven

Cowardice breaks off on its path.
Anguish breaks off on its path.
The vulture breaks off in its flight.

The eager light runs into the open,
even the ghosts take a drink.

And our paintings see the air,
red beasts of the ice-age studios.

Everything starts to look around.
We go out in the sun by hundreds.

Every person is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.

The endless field under us.
Water glitters between the trees.
The lake is a window into the earth.

(C) Tomas Transtromer