First I lost Calcutta, now my state, too
- WHERE IS THE WORLD DREAMING OF GOING? WHERE ARE WE GOING?
SONIA CHOPRA (Ex La Martiniere for Girls)
I was born in Calcutta. As a child, I had eagerly lisped and then fluently given out that information to relatives, friends and well-wishers, proudly and frequently. I could say “Calcutta” easily.
Years later, living in New York, I encountered instant recognition when I told people where I was born and raised. “Calcutta!” they cried out, “That’s where Mother Teresa is,” or “Calcutta, it’s the most crowded city in the world.” Sometimes they substituted “polluted” or “poverty-stricken” for “crowded”. Other times, they referred to the “Black Hole Tragedy” or “British rule”. However, it was clear that everybody had heard of Calcutta.
At least, it’s well known, I consoled myself. It’s also famous. It has historical significance.
In 1999, I was visiting Calcutta, when, under Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee’s leadership, the name “Calcutta” was unceremoniously dumped and “Kolkata” was created. I had felt cheated then, as if my identity had been snatched.
Kolkata can never hope to have that cosmopolitan edge that Calcutta did. It’s harder to pronounce and people worldwide can still barely say it right. Or remember it.
Even today, on the streets of Manhattan, in the vegetable stalls of Queens and the fish markets in Brooklyn, no one is familiar with “Kolkata”. It has to be explained to them and frankly, I get tired of it. (And these are just the Indians from the other states.)
Eventually, everyone seemed to get used to it but I never did. I still held on to the old name.
Now comes the news that West Bengal is to be renamed “Paschimbanga”.
It’s Bengali for “West Bengal”. By the weekend, the proclamation by Mamata Banerjee and the other politicians who unanimously agreed to rename the state was reported, googled and tweeted worldwide.
The name change was conceived as an innovative move, a gesture that will shrug off the colonial heritage and create an aura of dignity. The state apparently has gained an administrative advantage, too.
However, in my opinion, it has lost so much more. It has shown its indifference and lack of concern for the non-Bengali population.
Its loud, garish and self-serving message is simple: “If you’re not Bengali, you’re not one of us.”
For the non-Bengali-speaking people, it will be difficult to pronounce “Paschimbanga”, let alone live with the daily consequences of it. Invariably, it will be shortened to “Bongo”. How’s that going to sound?
Mostly, from my own personal experience, if one wants to survive in Bengal, one learns to speak the language. I can still speak it but I think of the Chinese people in Tangra, the Anglo-Indians in Kidderpore, and the Marwaris in Burrabazar who just struggle with the dialect and now will have to deal with the name change often.
Did anyone think of asking them? Of getting a consensus? I think the whole name-changing is a meaningless, unnecessary debacle.
I remember living in Salt Lake and commuting to La Martiniere for Girls and then later to St Xavier’s College. In the
buses, I revelled in the daily conversations in Bengali about politics, cricket and the theories of what Calcutta was, is and what it needed.
There was, and I am sure still is, a passion and patriotism to being Bengali and those of us who lived our whole lives there, understood it, embraced it and became a part of it.
But the others just felt left out. I was made acutely aware of that while eating jhalmuri or pastries in Flurys on Park Street. I saw another side of being a Calcuttan, having a certain identity and yet being isolated from the Bengali culture.
That’s why I think that Mamata Banerjee’s government has missed a tremendous opportunity to unify the public. Wider consultations would have brought together people in a way that only civic pride and nationalism could have.
Such an initiative could have included schools and colleges, engaged in debates and then decided on a name that would have been picked by a true majority. It would have boosted the morale of a state. It could have been historic.
I remember feeling betrayed when “Kolkata” came into being and now that “Paschimbanga” is here, I feel worse. I feel stateless.
The rest of the world settled in New York from various parts of the globe hasn’t been through my traumatic experiences.
The names of their cities and states have remained intact. They don’t go through the upheaval that I do, repeatedly.
If critics say that we live in a foreign country and it should not matter one way or another, I beg to differ. It does matter.
The city of my birth, the city of my education and my identity is all a part of who I am and who I have become.
For example, I love tea, samosas and mishti doi because I grew up in Bengal.
So, what about us? The common people? The expatriates? What about the world? Do we count? Do our opinions matter?
Sweat goes out of school life
GenX turns back on physical activity
JHINUK MAZUMDAR
Overheard in Calcutta schools: a new nursery rhyme that goes “….Little Johnny no longer wants to play”.
Across city institutions, GenX is showing a marked preference for extra-curricular activity bereft of any physical exertion, in most cases with the encouragement of their parents.
At St. James’ School, the percentage of students opting out of sport is a Benjamin Spock nightmare: 70 per cent. A mere 20 to 30 students of the school have enrolled for cricket and football coaching, while almost double the number have flocked to quiz and debating clubs.
More than 60 students of Calcutta Girls are in French class and barely half that number on the basketball court.
At Heritage School, 35 per cent of the students participate in physical activity ranging from golf to volleyball and the rest in non-physical activity like mime and pottery.
The Park Street and Salt Lake campuses of Apeejay School are no different. Around 12 students each regularly play table tennis, basketball and football, while over 60 students each have joined science, math and quiz clubs.
Students of Calcutta Boys now compete more for a place in the choir or the school band than for a spot in the cricket and football teams. “Football and cricket attract the same set of students, but interest in bands, choir, debating and elocution is rising,” Raja McGee, the principal of Calcutta Boys, told Metro.
Psychologists say children abstaining from physical extra-curricular activity not only retards growth, but also makes them insular. “Children are now so engrossed in the virtual world that even if there is a function at home, they would rather be in front of the computer,” said J.R. Ram, consultant psychiatrist at Apollo Gleneagles.Many teachers admit they didn’t see this coming. “We had first thought it might be a problem with a particular batch of students, but it’s a definite trend,” said J. Chacko, who teaches at St. James’ School.
Class VIII seems to be the finish line for most. At Mahadevi Birla, girls veer towards fashion designing, quizzing or even bridge once they cross Class VII.The prod sometimes comes from parents. “They write to us to excuse their daughters from sport, appending medical reports that mention heat allergy or some such discomfort,” said a teacher at Calcutta Girls.
Apeejay principal Reeta Chatterjee thinks the pressures of building a career are driving students towards academics-oriented extra-curricular activity.
Class X student Akash Mondal had learnt karate in school, only to quit and become a member of the math and quiz club. “I was part of the karate club till Class VI, but had to leave because studies demanded more time,” he said.
But doctors say there is no substitute for physical activity.
“Exercise is a must at all ages, starting age two or three. A three-year-old needs to jump about at home, a five or a six-year-old needs to play outside regularly and older children up to the age of 16-17 must be involved in some sport or physical activity,” advised Apurba Ghosh, the director of the Institute of Child Health.
The most common consequence of a sedentary lifestyle is, of course, obesity. “Extra weight leads to diabetes, hypertension and cardiac problems. The first two can set in as early as age 10,” warned Ghosh.
So are children — and their parents — listening?

