History was such a boring thing to learn in my school days. I often thought to myself - how the hell is this going to help me anyway? Kings & queens, conquerors and vanquished, kingdoms and myths, independence and struggle for freedom.. somehow they never drew me closer.. they never were able to make me dream of wars and warhorses at night, but then again neither did mathematics.
I guess, it has to do something with maturity that makes a man like something at a particular age and hate it at another age... or vice-versa.. and it can also become very embarassing if a friend mentions that to you.. as in "remember u had a thing for that barbie girl song at school and use to sing that song to woo the girls ?" and you look for a place to hide your face. But lately I've realized that somethings are there which do not change over time.. These are some things which are frozen in time and no matter in which age u are, always stays with you and sometimes grows with you as well. According to me, they represent who you are and your deep passion for it.
Also, if you have something on your head for quite
sometime like a parasite and cant get over it and you try to learn more about about it, try to know it better or simply explore, that can also be called passion.. be it love, music, cricket, horror stories, pizzas, KFC or a book you read of an unknown author and liked it so much that upon googling about the author you came to know that he is a Nobel-laureate.
Thankfully, it was not that complicated for me. It was something I just wanted to know- about the place I belong.
Its human to ask oneself that how did I land up here? what my ancestors were like and what did they do? Till how long can I trace them back and how amazing their journey must have been like?
In this small blogosphere, I would like to dedicate these series of blogs to the amazing phenomenon of human migration from one place to another for a living, the survival in the lush green state of Bengal with its rich history from the time of the Mahabharata to Michael Madhusudhan and how my family fits into it.
Most of these stories that follows are tales told by my Dadu who is no more and how I wished he was there to tell me more and spiced up by my Dida who still tells me about those magical afternoons when she use to play cards with her friends.
I will myself try to be spice up the story a bit (excuse me for the creative freedom) and would like to paint the story on the background of the greatest events that were taking shape in Bengal at those times..
This is my most ambitious project till now and the subject is very close to my heart. More because of the magical history of our past with stories that makes us sit up and listen to the wonderland called Motherland.
I guess, it has to do something with maturity that makes a man like something at a particular age and hate it at another age... or vice-versa.. and it can also become very embarassing if a friend mentions that to you.. as in "remember u had a thing for that barbie girl song at school and use to sing that song to woo the girls ?" and you look for a place to hide your face. But lately I've realized that somethings are there which do not change over time.. These are some things which are frozen in time and no matter in which age u are, always stays with you and sometimes grows with you as well. According to me, they represent who you are and your deep passion for it.
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| Gupi Bagha, something that can never grow old |
sometime like a parasite and cant get over it and you try to learn more about about it, try to know it better or simply explore, that can also be called passion.. be it love, music, cricket, horror stories, pizzas, KFC or a book you read of an unknown author and liked it so much that upon googling about the author you came to know that he is a Nobel-laureate.
Thankfully, it was not that complicated for me. It was something I just wanted to know- about the place I belong.
Its human to ask oneself that how did I land up here? what my ancestors were like and what did they do? Till how long can I trace them back and how amazing their journey must have been like?
In this small blogosphere, I would like to dedicate these series of blogs to the amazing phenomenon of human migration from one place to another for a living, the survival in the lush green state of Bengal with its rich history from the time of the Mahabharata to Michael Madhusudhan and how my family fits into it.
Most of these stories that follows are tales told by my Dadu who is no more and how I wished he was there to tell me more and spiced up by my Dida who still tells me about those magical afternoons when she use to play cards with her friends.
I will myself try to be spice up the story a bit (excuse me for the creative freedom) and would like to paint the story on the background of the greatest events that were taking shape in Bengal at those times..
This is my most ambitious project till now and the subject is very close to my heart. More because of the magical history of our past with stories that makes us sit up and listen to the wonderland called Motherland.
