SOWMEN MITTER | সৌমেন মিটার

The news of an Amazonian Indian tribe trying to make contact with the outside world, beyond the confines of the thick of the forest they have been dwelling in for generations and somehow still surviving the onslaught of civilization has come to the fore and very obviously, jolted some of us out of the slumber, or rather smug indifference with which we have looked up to things thus far. It has set us thinking about how we are going to deal these indigenous people who have, so far, remained so detached and removed from the influence of the sophisticated world that it seems, it's not only unlikely for them to get along with it, but instead, will also be highly prone to falling prey to the germs their system has not developed any immunity to. But what led them to try to establish contact with the settled population living in the flanks of the forest? It is alleged that it is because of the drug traffickers that they were compelled to go and seek help from the people living somewhat c...

It was while browsing the net that I came across this piece about ' langur menace ' in the India Today web edition dated 31st July, 2014. And these langurs are such creatures whom you can hardly afford to ignore, let alone not getting scared; unless, of course, you are one of those professionals who have willy-nilly accepted it as their fate to ape the apes - whether to entertain their fellow homo sapiens or to con their lesser brethren away. And now the Parliament House, the Indian law-makers' haven, seems to be too perturbed to wish this menace, as posed by these primates, away. Such has been their insolence that even the corridors of power have failed to tame them. Irrespective of the presence of grandiose and overbearing details of power, they have remained unfazed. And lo! what a nuisance, they don't even recognize there could be something as what they call 'tacit understanding'. They would rather go about looking for food or fun, whatever it is they feel...

Nabarun Bhattacharya , noted Bengali author and a man of letters passed away today at the age of 66. He was battling cancer for quite some time, to which he finally succumbed despite the best of efforts put in by doctors, first in Kolkata, and subsequently in Mumbai where he was shifted following a deterioration in his condition.  Nabarun, born to Bijan Bhattacharya and Mahasweta Devi, both writers of acclaim, had perhaps inherited the social consciousness that characterized the respective works of his parents. His father Bijan will go down in the annals of Bengali literary history as the man who had authored the much revered and celebrated play 'NABANNO' in the backdrop of the infamous, imperialist-sponsored and thereby man-made Bengal famine of 1943 which reportedly claimed some four million lives and is often referred to as the greatest genocide to have ever been committed by the British imperialists. Nabarun rose to fame with his novel 'Herbert' which won him th...

“ You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it. ” - Maya Angelou

Born: 26 September, 1820 Died: 29 July, 1890 Contributions Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar is considered as one of the pillars of Bengal renaissance. In other words, he managed to continue the reforms movement that was started by Raja Rammohun Roy. Vidyasagar was a well-known writer, intellectual and above all a staunch follower of humanity. He brought a revolution in the education system of Bengal. In his book, "Barno-Porichoy" (Introduction to the letter), Vidyasagar refined the Bengali language and made it accessible to the common strata of the society. The title 'Vidyasagar' (ocean of knowledge) was given to him due to his vast knowledge in almost all the subjects. Poet Michael Madhusudan Dutt while writing about Ishwar Chandra said: " The genius and wisdom of an ancient sage, the energy of an Englishman and the heart of a Bengali ...

"... In fields am I, where barbed wire now is coiling, And death goes whistling all adown the lea, Though even here the sky is black with starlings, They're starlings that have feathers made of steel. Here bombs explode, and the Sun's face is sullied, Here you can smell the blood and not the rose, It's not the dew that makes the thick grass humid, But human tears and blood that on it flow. Athwart the smoke I sometimes seek the sunlight, And with a bitter pang my heart will swell, Then on my hair the dewdrops will I sprinkle, Catching a droplet in a flower's bell. ......." - Mussa Jalil , ' The Joy of Spring '. An air strike early on Sunday (July 20, 2014) morning killed four people, including two children, according to medics [Courtesy:BBC / Story link: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-28389282] At the scene: Yolande Knell (BBC) [http://www.bbc.com/news/world-mi...

Sonnet XCIV by William Shakespeare They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others, but stewards of their excellence. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself, it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.