Dying Cinema industry had tried its best to save it, and in this regard many steps have been taken including to show the Indian movies, but all it went in vain. The spectators and cinema owner narrating the golden days of the cinema industry said that in the bygone days, there used to be hustle and bustle in these cinema houses; but at now mostly of the houses are turned to shopping centers.

In Rawalpindi Novelty Cinema is closed since long Naz Cinema has been demolished and owner the Naz cinema has planned to build a shopping plaza at the place of the cinema and Nadir cinema has been changed into a wedding hall.

Now there are a few functional cinema halls in Rawalpindi and many of them are in deteriorating conditions such as Moti Mehal Cinema, and the Seroze cinema of Rawalpindi is fighting for its survival. The cinema houses of Islamabad such as Melody, Kohsar and Neftic are closed for a long time and currently there is no operational cinema house in Islamabad and thus the Capital city of Pakistan is the only capital in the world without a cinema house.

Indian movies were also introduced for the sake of restoration of the past glory to these cinema houses, but this struggle was failed due to cable system. The owners of these cinema houses are trying to find out some other alternative employments due to high price of electricity and less interest of the spectators to come to cinema houses, said the owners.

The worsening situation of furniture in cinema and the growing fears of terrorist activities have also played an important role destroy the business of cinema houses, said the viewers. The owners of these cinema houses demanded of the government to provide them with incentives so that they can invest to restore the dying cinema industry.

The cinema owners lamenting over the situation said that the cultural ministry had never tried to compensate the dying cinema industry. They said that it was a high time for the government to take solid steps so that the glorious past of cinema industry can be brought back. The spectators are of the view that it is better for them to watch a movie at Rs 10 rupee at home rather than to spend Rs 150 for it at cinema house. NNI

Satyajit was born in the famous family of Roy Chowdhury originally a zamindar(LandLords) family from Mymensingh district in East-Bengal. He was born on 2nd May, 1921, in Kolkata to Suprabha Ray and Sukumar Ray , a great writer and creator of “Abol Tabol” (Nonsense Rhymes) and various other children stories. His Grandfather was Upendra Kishore Roy Chowdhury a great writer, illustrator, philosopher, publisher, amateur astronomer and a leader of the Brahmo Samaj, a religious and social movement in nineteenth century Bengal. Satyajit studied in Presidency College and at Santiniketan (Viswa-Bharati University). Satyajit initially started his career as a commercial artist and then he finally shifted his career to film making after meeting French filmmaker Jean Renoir and viewing the Italian neorealist film Bicycle Thieves during a visit to London.

Achievements:

Ray directed over 32 films, including various documentaries, short films and feature films. He was not only a great director but he was also a great film critic like his father. He was also a fiction writer, publisher, illustrator, graphic designer. Ray’s first film was Pather Pachali, a legend in Bengali film industry. It won eleven international prizes, including Best Human Document at the Cannes film festival. The Apu trilogy includes

• Pather Pachali,
• Apu’s Sansar and
• Aparajito.

Ray did the

1. scripting,
2. casting,
3. scoring,
4. cinematography,
5. art direction,
6. editing and
7. designed his own credit titles and publicity material.

Awards

To his credit, Ray won many national and international awards and prizes that includes 32 National Film Awards, a number of international awards, and an Academy Honorary Award in 1992.

His Films

Some of the greatest films ever produced in Bengali Film industry were directed b him, however not only Bengali but Indian film industry took benefit out of his qualities directed.

• Pather Pachali,
• Apu’r Sansar,
• Aparajito, Charulata (The Lonely Wife),
• Devi, Kanchanjungha,
• Nayak are his some of the greatest works.

Children stories

• Joy Baba Felunath(The Elephant God),
• Sonar Kella (The Golden Fort),
• Gupi Gayen-Bagha Bayen,
• Hirok Raja’r Desh e,
• Gupi Bagha Fire Elo are a few name to mention.

On his later creation, he created

• Aguntuk,
• Shakha Proshaka,
• Ganashutru,
• Ghaire Baire.

Ray has made various literary works for children. Feluda (A fictional Detective named Pradosh C. Mitter) is a very popular character among children. Various films like Sonar Kella, Joy Baba Felunath was made by him. There are lots of stories published on Feluda like:

• Bombay er Bombette (The Buccaneers of Bombay),
• Gorosthane Sabdhan (Beware In Graveyard),
• Chhinnamastar Abhishap (The Curse of Goddess),

and many many others. His Son Sandip Ray has made films based on some of the Feluda Story like

1. Bombay er Bombette (The Buccaneers of Bombay),
2. Kailash e Kelenkari (A Killer in Kailash).

His Characters:

• Other characters Like Professor Shanku (Scientist) is pretty famous among children.
• Tarini Khuro (Uncle Tarini ), a character not very famous is also awesome.

His AutoBiography

He has also written an auto biography of himself “Jokhon Choto Chilam” (When i was a kid) and and essays on film: Our Films, Their Films (1976), along with Bishoy Chalachchitra (1976), Ekei Bole Shooting (1979). Our Films, Their Films is an anthology of film criticism by Ray. The book contains articles and personal journal excerpts. His book Bishoy Chalachchitra was translated in 2006 as Speaking of Films, and contains a compact description of his philosophy of different aspects of the cinema. Ray also wrote a collection of nonsense verse named Today Bandha Ghorar Dim, which includes a translation of Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky”. He also authored a collection of humorous stories of Mullah Nasiruddin in Bengali.

Ray’s work is often described as full of universality and humanism and always underlying great and complex thinking. The great and legendary Akira Kurosawa, who declared,

“Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon.”But his detractors find his films glacially slow, moving like a “majestic snail.

Ray’s work has highly appreciated by legendaries like Jean-Luc Godard, V.S Naipaul,Stanley Kauffman,Mrinal Sen. Though once V.S Naipaul had criticized his movie “Shatraanj Ke Khilari” with a Shakespeare play.

Ray has always been bestowed with great awards through out his life. He has been awarded with 32 National Film Awards by the Government of India. He was only among the three to win Silver Bear for Best Director twice in Berlin Film Festival and holds the record for the most Golden Bear nominations (seven times). Venice Film Festival, where he had previously won a Golden Lion for Aparajito (1956), he was awarded the Golden Lion Honorary Award in 1982.That same year, he also received an honorary “Hommage à Satyajit Ray” award at the 1982 Cannes Film Festival. Ray is only after Chaplin to receive Honorary Doctorate degree from Oxford University. He was awarded the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 1985 and the Legion of Honor by the President of France in 1987.The Government of India awarded him the highest civilian honour Bharat Ratna shortly before his death. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences awarded Ray an honorary Oscar in 1992 for Lifetime Achievement.In 1992 he received posthumously Akira Kurosawa Award for Lifetime Achievement in Directing at the San Francisco International Film Festival, it was received by Sharmila Tagore. Entertainment Weekly magazine, In 1996,ranked Satyajit Ray at #25 in its “50 Greatest Directors” list. The Sight & Sound critics’ and directors’ poll ranked Ray at #22 in its list of all-time greatest directors in 2002.Total Film magazine included Ray in its “100 Greatest Film Directors Ever” list in the year 2007.

Satyajit Ray passed away peacefully on 23 April 1992 in Kolkata. He lives in the heart of every Indians specially all Bengalis across the border along with his wife Bijoya Das, his son Sandip Ray and Grandson. The Legend of the Indian Film Industry can never be forgotten and we remember him on this Birthday with great respect.

Bengali New Year is generally celebrated on 14th of April in Bangladesh as decided by the Bangla Academy and on 15th April it is celebrated in India. History reveals that Bengal, a land whose sons have always struggled for their language against imposition of any other language, is really proud to celebrate this festival. With new clothes and smiles Bengalis distribute sweets among each other and go to Temples and Mosques for prayers. A typical Bengali Babu dresses for poila baisakh in “dhooti & panjabi” or “loongi and panjabi”. Kids generally wear kurta and payjamas and ladies like to take “lal paar sari”. Pohela Boishakh( New Year) joins all ethnic Bengalis irrespective of religious and regional differences.

History of Bengali Calendar :
The Bengali calendar or Bangabda is used in West Bengal, Bangladesh, Assam and Tripura.The Hindu solar calendar based on the Surya Siddhanta that commences in mid-April of the Gregorian year. The first day of this calendar is celebrated as the traditional New Year. It is according to the Bhaskar (Sun) Era, pioneered by Emperor Akbar in 1584 AD.

The calendar was initially named as Tarikh-e-Elahi. The months of the Bengali year(or Tarikh-e-Elahi) were primarily recognized as Karwadin, Ardi, ‘Vihisu, Khordad, Teer, Amardad, Shahriar, Aban, Azur, Dai, Baham and Iskander Miz. It is assumed that the present names of months are kept before the names of the stars. This is introduced from the Shakabda in 78 A.D. to honor the sovereignty of the Shaka.

THE NAMES OF THE MONTHS DERIVING FROM STARS—
1. Baishakh from the star Bishakha
2. Jiashthya from Jaishtha
3. Ashara from Shar
4. Sraban from Srabani
5. Bhadra from Bhadrapada
6. Ashwin from Aswaini
7. Kartik from Kartika
8. Agrahayon from Agraihon
9. Poush from Poushya
10. Magh from Magha
11. Falgun from Falguni, and
12. Chaitra from Chitra stars.

Some argue that, Shashanka, king of Bengal, introduced Bengali calendar to memorialize his invasion of Assam.

It is said that under the Mughal era taxes were collected according to the ‘hijri’ calendar. But since it is a total lunatic calendar so it doesn’t coincide with harvest time. So, in order to maintain; Emperor Akbar tried to formulate a new calendar with the help of Fatehullah Shirazi, the great astronomer from Bengal. He organized the Bengali year on the basis of the Hijri lunar and Hindu solar calendars. The new agricultural year was introduced on 11 March 1584.The new year subsequently became known as Bonggabdo or Bengali year.

Tradition is to clear up all dues on the last day of Choitro. On the first day of the new year, landlords would distribute sweets among tenants. On this occasion fairs are organized. The occasion has became a part of domestic and social life. The main event of the day is to open a halkhata or new book of accounts. This was wholly a financial affair. In villages, towns and cities, traders and businessmen closed their old account books and opened new ones. They used to invite their customers to share sweets and renew their business relationship with them. This tradition is still practiced, especially by jewelers.

Celebrations In Kolkata :
Baisakh is considered as a very pious time to conduct marriages and other productive activities. On this day people wear new clothes and decorates their house with ‘rangoli’ which is called ‘alpana’ in Bengali. Choitra the end month of the year is generally a very hectic month and garment dealers give clothes at heavy discount popularly called choitra sale in Kolkata. Cultural programs are organized and prayers are offered with families. Ladies wear white sarees with Red Border and men Dhooti Panjabi and take part in ‘probhat pheri’ procession to welcome the new year.

This day being auspicious, new businesses and new ventures are started. The Mahurat is performed, marking the beginning of new ventures.Traders go to ganga ghat (babu ghat) and open new account books called halkhata. Priests enchant mantras and draws shostik (“Hindu swastika”). Long queues of devotees are seen in front of the Kalighat temple from late night. Devotees offer puja(worship) to receive the blessings of the almighty. On Poila Boishakh various fairs are held in West Bengal. The most famous of these is Bangla Sangit Mela, held at Nandan-Rabindra Sadan ground. This fair is conducted by the Government of West Bengal. People visit their relative’s place and have typical bengali ‘addas’.

Clebration in Dhaka:
Dhaka and all parts of Bangladesh celebrate this festival by their heart. They clean up their homes and take bath early.They visit their friends and relatives and have typical addas. On poila baisakh whole of Dhaka gets colored.

Boisakhi fairs are very famous in all over Bangladesh and handicrafts and toys, clothes etc are exhibited. Also varieties of sweet are and foods are prepared in these fairs.The fairs also provide entertainment, with singers and dancers staging jatra (traditional plays), pala gan, kobigan, jarigan, gambhira gan, gazir gan and alkap gan. They present folk songs as well as baul, marfati, murshidi and bhatiali songs.

Traditional folk plays like Laila-Majnu,Yusuf-Zulekha and Radha-Krishna are staged. Among other attractions of these fairs are the puppet shows and merry-go-rounds.The most colorful new year’s day festival takes place in Dhaka. Large numbers of people gather early in the morning under the banyan tree at Ramna Park where Chhayanat artists open the day with Rabindranath Tagore’s famous song, Esho,he Boishakh, Esho Esho (Come, O Boishakh, Come, Come).

A similar ceremony welcoming the new year is also held at the Institute of Fine Arts, University of Dhaka. Students and teachers of the institute take out a colorful procession and parade round the campus. Social and cultural organizations celebrate the day with cultural programs. Newspapers bring out special supplements. There are also special programs on radio and television.

The historical importance of Poiela Boishakh in the Bangladeshi context may be dated from the observance of the day by Chhayanat in 1965. In an attempt to suppress Bengali culture, the Pakistani Government had banned poems written by Rabindranath Tagore, the most famous poet and writer in Bengali literature. Protesting this move, Chhayanat opened their Pohela Boishakh celebrations at Ramna Park with Tagore’s song welcoming the month. The day continued to be celebrated in East Pakistan as a symbol of Bengali culture. After 1972 it became a national festival, a symbol of the Bangladesh nationalist movement and an integral part of the people’s cultural heritage. Later, in the mid- 1980s the Institute of Fine Arts added color to the day by initiating the Boishakhi parade, which is much like a carnival parade.

However, Bengalis are the people who enjoys their life at best forgetting all grievances and forgiving every one.The grass, the skies, trees ? every natural object seems beautiful and glows with delight and cheerfulness. To each and every Bengali, it is an occasion of joviality to enjoy with immense merriment, in all possible way. Special dishes are prepared on this day. I would like to invite every one to visit the Bengal at this day and see how Bengalis welcome you with their wide open smiley hearts.Visit Kolkata or Dhaka the zeal is same. No border can break the unity of Bengalis.
Happy new year to all.

Some of the prominent Bhoot famous in Bengal are as follows:

* Shankchunni: A female ghost. Usually married women who dies prematurely and unsatisfied with her married life. According to other view a women during her married life if having an extra marital affair and dies prematurely becomes a Shankchunni. Danger: It is said that they stay in trees and whenever they see a young attractive young man she immediately catch him ups and don’t leave him till he dies.Wow! What a love!

* Petni: Another version of beautiful lady ghost. A story is regarding petnis like this, once a zamindar Babu (LandLord) named Prafulla Kumar Ghosh from Faridpur (Now in Bangladesh) was roaming in the field at night. He suddenly noticed a very beautiful lady was sitting on a tree. She was wearing a red saree (tradition Indian dress) along with a red Bindi (Part of Benagli Makeup put on forehead) and all her hairs were waving in air. Zamindar Babu immediately fell in love and she was also smiling at him. Zamindar asked her who is she and what she is doing on the top of the tree at late night. She said she is a simple girl, since her father was forcing her to get married with an old man she ran away from home and hidden in the branches of this tree. Zamindar babu immediately asked her to get married with him. She replied that she can marry on a condition. The condition was that zamindar will have to take a dive in water pond and fetch fish for her. His success was guarantee to marriage. The tragedy was that when Zamindar dived in the pond he never came out and nor the fish. On the next day his body was found in pond. People beleived that Yamini Petni has killed him who has died 90 years ago. She was an unsatisfied woman and committed suicide.

* Chorachunni: They are mischievous ghosts and usually are the ghosts of Thieves. They come out in the night of “Purnima” (Full Moon Night) and break into homes of peoples. It is interesting question that How people can protect their homes from them? Commonly believed that an iron nail purified with Ganga Jal nailed in in the door is effective remedy to keep these ghosts away from home. Also “Satyanarayan Katha” Can be help full.

* PenchPenchi: They look like owls and exist in form of couples as one is female and other is male. They keep following people to jungle and kill them and eat them up.

* Nishi : These are supposed really dangerous. They call people by their names at night. People get hypnotized and go with them and never return. Interestingly few tantrics (magicians) keep Nishi as their pets and use these to take revenges from people.

* Mamdo Bhoot: These are ghost of Muslims according to Hindus.

* Brahmadaitto or Brahmodatti: They are spirits of Brahmins. They generally appear in a white dhoti (Traditional dress in form of a loose fabric tied on waist) with a sacred thread on this body. It is said that when a Brahmin dies and if they die prematurely they become Brahmadaitto or Brahmodatti. Also if a Brahmin dies without his threads then also he can become a Brahmadaitto or Brahmodatti. They are sacred ghost. It is believed that if they bless someone; one can achieve goals. But annoying or irritating them make them dangerous. They live in Banyan tree or Apple tree. They also live in open terrace. They sometime look like Hindu deity Shiva.

* Aleya: Marsh gas apparitions that confuse fishermen, make them lose their bearings and eventually drown. They are generally the ghosts of fisherman who died during their work. Some time they confuse the fishermen and some time they help them in knowing the future dangers.

* Skondhokata or Kondhokata: A headless ghost. They are ferocious and kill humans once they feel them. They are generally the ghosts of people whose head has cut off may be in Train Accidents. But it is also easy to fool them since they don’t have heads!

These are some of the ghosts popular in Bengal. But according to my personal belief these ghosts are less dangerous than humans. Ghost in the form of Politicians, Ghosts in the form of Sadhus and Maulvis are very dangerous. Instead of looking for these stupid ghosts we should find and get rid of these socialites ghosts who has made our societies full of horror due to their wrong deeds.

“Right about now, that looks like fun.”

The girls just walked into practice after school, and Katie noticed several five, six, seven year old girls, a blurry swarm in a corner of the gym, rolling hoops and balls and laughing and screaming and playing drums on the floor mats with mallets and willy-nilly dancing with colorful ribbons.

“Sometimes I feel more jealous of those little girls than I do the older ones

I’m trying to beat.” Katie reflected.

“Yeah.” Susan agreed.

“Wouldn’t it be nice?” Katie went on.

“What?” said Susan.

“… a Shintaiso championship of frolic and fun.”

“Get real.”

“Yeah, just a thought.”

“Well… here’s a better thought, daydream-butt:

just this once,

forget about warm up and stretching,

go back to when you were five years old…

I dare ya…

go frolic with the little girls

just to see what

Godotnova-sensei says.” said Susan.

“You think I wanna go back to five years old? I just wanna play.” Katie said.

“So, go for it. What’s she gonna say?” said Susan, “ ‘get with it while your whole world explodes around you?’ “

“She might.” Katie said.

“And she might not,” said a male voice several meters away.

“Satchitananda-san.” Susan saw him first.

“What are you doing here?”

“I hope I’m not intruding. Obá-chan said it would be okay for me to stop by and watch you practice.”

“Not much to see.” Susan said in monotone.

“It’s nice of you to come.” said Katie.

“You girls go ahead… I’ll sit over here…”

And Katie ran over to the little ones and dove upon the floor and rolled around grabbing and tickling them, and rolling again, encouraged by more screams and squeals.

Katie paused a moment and rested on her back amidst the tiny feet and arms and bodies piling on top of her and stared blankly at the ceiling, and some smile rose up inside of her, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Who is this man?” said Inga Godotnova standing next to Susan and watching Katie play.

“Um, I’m not sure. A friend of the family? Ask Obá-chan.” said Susan.

? ? ? ? ?

“You coulda’ picked a better practice than this one,” said Susan to the old man.

“Pretty bad considering…” Katie said.

The two were shaking their heads, all were walking home together from Chofu Station.

“Considering?” said Satchitananda.

“Considering the National Trials Competition is several days away,” said Susan.

“Never felt so… I don’t know… unprepared before a meet,” Katie said.

“Unpracticed? Untrained?” said Kenji.

“Yeah and that’s what makes me so mad. Thirty hours a week of training and I am feeling unprepared.”

“Hmm.” Kenji nodded, “you girls ever been down at the river at night?”

“Not lately.”

“Few years ago, Dad took us there really late one night.” said Susan.

“To watch a meteor shower.” Katie said.

“Dragged us outta the dead of sleep.” said Susan smiling a bit now.

“See any?” said Kenji

“Boy did we.” Susan said laughing.

“There were more than meteors up there.” Katie said.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“We saw… the three of us… I don’t know what it was.” Katie said.

“not a meteor huh?” Kenji said.

“Not unless meteors these days have minds of their own.” said Susan..

“and dress in designer colors,” Katie added.

“It was… weirdly blue,” said Susan shaking her head up and down, “not like a flame.”

“Some kinda punk meteor we decided,” said Katie, “with state-of-the-art avionics.”

“Obá-chan was so mad she missed it.” Susan laughed.

“Obá-chan.” Kenji said. “I’ll bet she’s awaiting your return with more worry than usual tonight.”

“We’re worried about her too,” said Susan.

“She’s a wonderful grandmother, isn’t she?” Kenji said.

“The best there ever was,” Katie smiled.

“Well hurry home. And how about meeting me at the hut after you eat? Unless you’re feeling too tired. We can always meet tomorrow night.” he said.

Susan chuckled to herself. “We can probably make it.”

“We’ll eat. Finish some homework.” Katie said.

“See ya.” the girls said and ran the last fifty meters home.

? ? ? ? ?

“Have you heard or seen anything strange in this forest.” said Susan, with a mock-deep authoritarian voice.

The girls were merely steps away from Kenji’s hut.

“Shhh,” Katie said laughing. “The agents can hear us from their car right over there.”

“Only the normal haunted stuff.”

The girls heard Kenji’s loud whisper over the bullfrog army choir.

It was coming from ten meters further down the hill and past his hut.

“Hey, wait up!” Susan whispered hoarsely back.

“You were listening to our whole conversation with the agents this morning, weren’t you.” said Katie, stepping over godknowswhat in the dark.

They caught up to him, still in the forest, but close to the road.

“Who me?” Kenji smiled.

“This is kinda fun,” said Susan.

“Let’s cut over the road and then down the hill into the rice paddy and along the edge of the water toward The Tama River.”

“Really?” Katie said.

“It’s way too muddy down there, Satchitananda-san.” said Susan.

“Don’t worry, follow me.” he said and shrugged and waved his arms.

They held hands and laughed while slipping down the hill then followed Kenji’s big steps and leaps over deep and sloppy mud and into wet and shin-high grass and then up several footsteps to the top of the levy looking west across slick black shallow water glittering with the candlelight of ghosts, here and there, in the shine of a late rising moon. Or so Susan imagined as they walked along more relaxed now.

But Susan couldn’t resist a snicker out load about the ghosts of Hebiyama, and surmised that if there were such things, they were too much varied in their ways and looks and sounds to get noticed apart from all the weirdness still very much alive in there.

“If every thing and everyone alive is truly different,” Kenji said, “perhaps every thing and everyone dead is too.”

“Well, I guess that’s a nice thought,” Katie said, making her eyes as big as she could in sarcasm.

“Sorry, that is not a nice thought,” said Susan, “it is creeping me out.”

They were walking along a dry pathway now between old houses, a hundred meters from the Tama River.

“Let’s try shifting our angle of view on this, Susan and Katie, on this timely subject you’ve raised.” he said.

“Timely?” the girls said together.

“Well, you know. Oh look there’s the river!”

And they climbed atop the river’s own levy to get a better look.

“I have an idea.” Kenji went on, this time with clear intention. “Discussions about death and dying are fun, believe me, where I come from? These are things to know about. But let’s consider for a moment something we’re negotiating right now… or trying to anyway.

“The river?” Katie asked.

“The river, yes Katie, but in this case, more general.” he replied.

“Life.” said Susan.

“Life.” repeated Kenji.

“Now there’s a scary thought,” said Katie.

“Yes,” said Kenji, “in many ways.”

“Especially…” Katie started and stopped and pressed the temples of her head to hold off tears with the palms of her hand.

They looked at the moving water for a while in quietness.

“Isn’t it strange,” he said and paused.

“What?” said Susan.

“The most precious thing we have… from moment to moment, the one thing we love the most…has never been defined.

“Huh?” said the girls.

“Life.” Said Kenji, “Life has no structure we can put our hands on, no inherent flavor embedded in our bodies to secrete the tiniest taste of certainty. And it doesn’t concern us in the least, or most of us anyway.

“Strange.” He continued, all the knowledge our species has fancied and tested and documented and applied… isn’t it strange we still don’t know who it is we are?”

“Or ‘what’ it is we are.” said Susan.

“Excellent point!” Kenji said. “What we are…” he began slowly, is who we are, but too big for us to see or to smell or taste – or to even think about.

“Too big?” said Susan.

“How’s that?” Katie asked.

“Life. You.” said Kenji. It’s simply too big for our own minds to fathom.”

“I try to fathom it,” Susan said. “… sometimes.”

“and?” Kenji said, “what have you learned?”

“Not much. Just fun to do sometimes, I guess.” said Susan.

“but you said we’re too big, didn’t you? …for our minds? …I don’t get it.” Katie said.

“Good point!” Kenji said, “yet another oddity of our existence – our minds, perhaps nature’s greatest creation, is all but crippled, really, in ever knowing anything.”

“Oh but there are billions on this earth who would disagree with you.” said Susan.

“There most certainly are.” said Kenji. “The mind lays claim to all knowledge. It’s the nature of the mind, and yet it knows so very little. It’s a beautiful confusion built into our existence,

“Beautiful?”

“Perhaps when you consider that the nature of existence is itself pure knowledge.”

“Pure knowledge?”

“And astonishingly accessible.”

“How?” the girls said almost at once.

“Through our feelings.” Kenji said.

Susan was shaking her head in doubt. “To fathom or to feel – let’s stop this nonsense. I am so confused.”

“Hmmm yes.” said Kenji, “confused is also good! Shall we go ahead and try it out?

“Huh?”

“Try what?”

“Try out the feeling of how big you are?”

“how’s that?” said Susan.

“well…” Kenji looked around aware, “let’s sit down here a moment and get comfortable and let’s close our eyes and see.”

“I don’t know,” said Susan.

“Three four minutes at the most. Are you game? Let’s try.”

“This is weird,” Katie said.

“This is weird,” repeated Susan.

And they sat down on dry soil and closed their eyes and Kenji said, “let’s take a deep breath in…

and let it out…

Now let’s take another deep breath in…

and let it out…”

they sat about half a minute.

Kenji spoke:

“Do you feel some quietness, some silence, some good feeling?

Let’s close the eyes again and be with and watch inside very gently that good feeling.”

They sat a few more moments
and Kenji spoke:

“Become aware of your breath, however it is… fast or slow or changing…

become aware of your breath…”

And they sat quietly again.

“Now become aware of your body…

without concentration,

without effort…”

For moments more they sat.

“Slowly, let’s open the eyes.” Kenji said.

“Did you notice

while sitting

and observing this breath and this body

that thoughts of any sort arise in the mind?

hmmm?”

The girls nodded slowly.

“Did you notice how naturally this happened? hmmm? how the mind naturally comes into play?

This time, let’s close the eyes, and when we become aware of the mind in play let’s gently refocus our attention to the breath… let’s close the eyes…”

And a minute or two passed.

Kenji slowly said:

“Become aware…

of your body.”

and a restful minute or so passed on.

Then Kenji said:

“Become aware…

of the top of your head..”

And Kenji continued to guide them gently through alternating and growing levels of quietness and awareness…

like so:

“Become aware of the space…

above the top of your head…

Become aware of the moon…

Become aware of allllllllll the space..

between the moon

and the top of your head…

Become aware of a direct connection,

a long, unbroken connection…

with a smile on its face…

between the moon

and the top of your head.

Let’s be with that connection, that smile

for a moment…

Become aware of all the stars in the heavens…

And alllllllllll the space between all the stars in heaven

and the top of your head…

Become aware of all the connections,

each in smile,

from trillions of stars in heaven

to the top of your head…”

The three sat quietly for several more minutes unaware of time passing.

“Become aware of your breath.” Kenji said. “Let’s enjoy with eyes still closed this awareness for a moment.

Then Kenji said, “Gently, and when you are ready take a minute or two or more and very slowly open the eyes…

What did you feel? Hmmm?”

“I felt as relaxed as a rock. And I also somehow felt huge.” Susan said.

I felt exactly the same way,” said Katie, “and I also felt like crying.”

“Me too.” said Susan.

“Good. And how do you feel now?”

“Relaxed,” said Susan, “Calm. Quiet. And sad too.”

“Hmm mmm. And Katie? What did you feel?”

“Yeah. the same. I felt big. Huge. Quiet.”

“Did you notice thoughts coming during the experience? Hmmm?”

“Yes, thoughts of everything,” Susan said, “of Mom and Dad, of Jack, Obá-chan, of our coach, my routine, my impossible routine.”

Kenji laughed. “And did you notice how these thoughts come spontaneously without intention and without effort? Yes? Hmm? With just this amount of effortless effort: the way we notice thoughts arising naturally in the mind, with just this subtle direction of our awareness we can feel how big life is, how big we are, inside and out, and feel your very own ‘who’, your self, all along the way.”

“I don’t feel like moving a single muscle in my body.” said Susan.

“Me too.” Katie said.

“Good.” said Kenji.

“Will you do this again with us?”

“Yes. And you can do it without me as well.”

“Maybe not.” said Katie.

Susan smiled.

Kenji smiled and nodded his head and said, “Good. Anyway, you can try it. And now you know what to do.”

“I’m starting to feel so sleepy.” Katie said.

“Me too,” said Susan. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 15 – Intelligence here and there.

“What am I doing?” answered Jack O’Brien to the old man on the train to Kashmir, “how could this be any of your business?”

“Business?” said Kenji. “Like what? Some investment? A transaction?”

“You know what I mean.” said Jack O’Brien. “Some privacy… would be appreciated.”

“How long have you been… in transit?” Kenji said.

Jack shook his head. “You won’t quit, will you?”

“I quit all the time,” said Kenji. “And I quit now. A simple question is all.”

Jack O’Brien took a half-deep breath , “what is today… Friday? Left on Tuesday afternoon. Lost a day coming over.”

“Over?” Kenji asked.

“Over the date line.” Jack said.

“You’ve come a long way.” said Kenji.

“Not long enough.” Jack said.

“You have relatives in Kashmir?” Kenji said.

“My parents.”

Kenji looked at him without response.

“My parents went missing in Kashmir.”

“When?”

“Perhaps two weeks ago.” said Jack.

“Lost?” Kenji said.

“Taken.” said Jack.

“and you know this for a fact?” Kenji said.

“from a reliable source.” Jack nodded.

“and this source sent you on your way here?” Kenji said.

“not really.” Jack said. “That was my decision.”

And both of them at once looked up to a man standing in the aisle looking at them.

“Will you come with me, young man.” he said. It was the man in a beige linen suit and sunglasses. Soldiers from the Indian Army appeared at each end of the train car and stood alert with rifles slung over their shoulders.

Jack looked around, his face pulled up tight with fear. Kenji looked at Jack and looked at the man who was holding out a badge.

“I am a security officer of the government of India. And you will come with me.” the man said, and began pulling Jack out of his seat with a hand gripped under Jack’s arm.

“Where are you taking him?” Kenji asked.

The man did not respond.

“My young friend, listen to me.” Kenji said.

Jack was being led quickly down the isle, and he looked over his shoulder to Kenji.

“Keep your head. Keep your courage too.”

? ? ? ? ?

Katie awoke on Saturday morning and immediately sat up in her futon.

“That’s weird… sleep went so fast… but I feel just fine…”

She looked over at Susan who awoke and sat up right away too.

“Yeah, what’s up. We’re not dragging our selves outta bed.”

“Felt like I slept ten minutes from the time I closed my eyes to just now.” Katie said.

“Yeah. Did we really sleep?”

“I think so, I feel great.”

“Me too. What happened? I didn’t wake up even once during the night and had no dreams or anything.” said Susan.

“Let’s not tell anybody.” Katie said.

“Don’t worry. What’s there to tell.” said Susan.

“It’s weird.” said Katie.

“I’ll take it.” said Susan.

“Me too.” Katie said.

“Good morning, everyone!” the girls walked into the living area.

The room was like a replay from yesterday morning, except Kenji was already sitting at the breakfast table and scooping rice and natto (fermented bean curd) into his mouth and listening closely to Taya-san and Kaneko-san from the Japan Foreign Ministry who sat on either side of him.

Obá-chan was eating, as she often did, standing up and cooking at the same time, usually getting something started early for the evening meal before she, herself, left for the office.

“They found your brother in India.” said Obá-chan to the girls right away.

“In India.” Katie said. “That’s good. Mom and Dad?”

Obá-chan simply shook her head.

“The Indian Government reported to our embassy a few hours ago.” said Kaneko-san.

“That’s correct.” Taya-san continued the story, “they picked him up on a train heading for Kashmir about twelve ours ago, India time, and reported Jack was traveling with some old man.”

“Jack can make a friend of anybody, anywhere.” Obá-chan said.

“It’s very strange, however.” Taya-san continued.

“They said the old man could speak Japanese.

Naturally it aroused suspicion and they tried to detain him as well.

“And?” Obá-chan said.

“And…” Taya-san paused and displayed both surprise and guilt upon his face, “somehow…” he paused again and shook his head, “somehow, the old man got away.”

“Strange indeed.” Kenji said without pause and his mouth still full of food.

“From a train?” Obá-chan said almost laughing out loud.

The men just raised their eye-brows and shrugged their shoulders. “One less thing to worry about.” Said Kaneko-san.

“You really think so?” said Susan.

“Susan.” Katie was shaking her head to stop her.

“They don’t know Jack either.” Susan mumbled away.

“They’ll hold your grandson at the border until agents from the Japanese Consulate arrive six to eight hours from now and then he’ll shortly be on his way back to Tokyo.” said Taya-san.

“With an escort from the Japan Foreign Ministry,” added Kaneko-san.

“And how in the world did my grandson, attending a private boarding high school in Sedona Arizona – the other side of the world – discover, before anyone in power,what happened to his parents in Kashmir?” Obá-chan had her arms crossed now.

“According to U.S. investigators,” Taya-san explained, “Jack has two friends at school whose fathers are situated, respectively, at rather elevated positions in the Indian Government and the Government of Pakistan.”

“I can’t imagine any father in that position disclosing such information to their own teenage son. What purpose could that possibly serve?” Obá-chan said.

“It appears the students… of these men of high rank, are their daughters, not their sons.”

“Oh that explains everything.” Susan said.

“And with the considerable aid of your grandson, hacked into secure intelligence networks of both governments.”

“What would give them that idea?” Obá-chan said.

“They hacked these networks at the beginning of the school year – for what purpose we still don’t know –and by coincidence, just a few days ago, discovered this information.”

“And these girls are providing information to authorities?” Obá-chan said.

“I wish I could tell you yes.” said Taya-san.

“But these girls have turned up missing as well…”

“Huh?” said Obá-chan.

“…And are yet to be found.” Taya-san finished.

Obá-chan stood staring and shaking her head. “Who are these girls, what are their names?”

“Their names are being withheld by other authorities.”

“Well. If they found Jack, I’m sure they’ll find these girls soon.”

“This is what’s expected, yes.”

“If Jack was helping them?” Susan shook her head, “Wouldn’t be an expectation I’d bet on.”

“Gentlemen?” This time Obá-chan jumped in to quell her granddaughter’s comments. “I can’t thank you enough for your dedication to this crisis and for disclosing this important information. And girls?” she turned to Katie and Susan O’Brien, “I believe you have just enough time to get to the station and catch your train to school.”

“Is Satchitananda-san walking with us to the station?” said Katie.

“I’m staying right here, today.” Kenji said, his mouth still full.

“Then we’re outta here.” said Katie. “Thank you for breakfast, Obá-chan.

“Thank you for breakfast, Obá-chan, and we’ll see you tonight.”

Obá-chan followed Katie and Susan to the door. “Stay focused girls. I know you will.”

“We will, Obá-chan.” Katie said.

“We will, Obá-chan.” said Susan.

And Obá-chan slowly closed the front door, and the girls departed for Fuda Station, and the three repressed with effort the urging of their tears.

? ? ? ? ?

“This is too much.” Katie said after the two walked quietly for five minutes.

“Can you stay focused?” Susan asked.

“No way.” Katie said.

“Me neither. What’ll we do?” said Susan.

Katie was shaking her head and kept silent for a minute or two.

“I don’t know.” Katie finally said. “Maybe we attach the moon to our head with a bungee cord?” she chuckled to herself.

“Hey a whole bunch of bungee cords,” Susan chuckled back, “from all the stars in the heavens.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Katie laughed louder.

“Yeah.” Susan laughed back.

Chapter 16 – Chaos and demands.

The girls reached Fuda Station moments later and froze suddenly in their tracks to see their father Henry O’Brien on a large flat panel television screen affixed above the entrance of the station.

He was kneeling in a position with hands behind his back.

He looked worried and tired and unshaven and thin.

He read a message in English aloud:

“We are the humiliated
the stomped upon
and the hated.

Even as we simply live
upon the land
our ancestors nurtured
for a thousand years,
or ten thousand.

From Palestine to Chiapas to North Carolina
from Tibet to Kosovo to Kashmir
from Chechnya to East Timor
from Basque to Northern Ireland
from the Ainu of Hokkaido and of Honshu before that,
and from a thousand – at least -
more populations of people
whose cultures are no longer endangered,
because the people themselves are extinct.

In our own homes
we are homeless.

We are strangers and scapegoats,
or simply and wholly forgotten.

In our efforts
to live and to raise our children
and to honor the spirits of our ancestors,
upon these mere spots-on-the-rug
of planet earth,
drenched in the blood and the tears,
and the smiles and celebrations
of who we are
and always have been,
we are called ‘the terrorists’
for not disappearing
for not allowing
the ubiquitous and self-proclaiming-to-be-enlightened,
capital-market, finite-resource, political-boundary bullies,
to cage us in,
to abduct our children,
and to kill our entire people
however detrimentally
however slowly
and then to belch unaware
and to sleep it all off
over decades
between the sheets
of our very own beds
as if nothing in the world
ever happened.”

And then their mother appeared before the camera situated in the same position looking equally as worn continuing to read the message:

“The lives of Mieko and Henry O’Brien
are at stake,
and will come to an end
one hundred hours from now
unless those who are accountable -
you leaders of the big eight -
step forward
to take their place.”

A local news commentator then appeared on the screen with words that went unheard by Katie and Susan O’Brien.

“I have to sit down.” said Susan.

“Let’s sit down.” Katie said too.

And people they knew and who knew them – at least from sight – moved on in avoidance, ostensibly concerned about disturbing the sudden disturbance, and looking down or away and quickly walking by Katie and Susan O’Brien.

? ? ? ? ?

When the girls left the house minutes before Taya-san’s cell phone went off, and listening for a moment he replaced it in his pocket and walked to the television nearby and turned it on.

It was an unscheduled broadcast by the television networks of Japan. A moment later he motioned for Kaneko-san, and the two walked silently out the door to their car.

Obá-chan and Kenji stood up and watched what the girls and perhaps the world were seeing.

“These people are nothing but savages and terrorists!” Obá-chan said when it was finished.

“Their approach is one of ignorance,” Kenji said and continued slowly, “But how much more ignorant, it is difficult to say

compared to the crimes put upon them.”

“How can you take their side!”

“I’m not sure I am taking their side. You wouldn’t allow your own government to conduct a simple search for your daughters on the land next door you deem sacred, and for all the same good reasons. What if they were Chinese or Koreans or Taiwanese or Americans, who not only wanted to search Hebiyama, but to stake there a claim forever?”

“This is different.” Obá-chan said.

“Please tell me how so?” Kenji continued slowly.

Obá-chan buried her head in the palms of her hands and wept aloud and cried “it isn’t fair”.

And Kenji, aware he was pushing, his older sister to the edge,

said more softly and slowly, “Tell me this, One-san, what if it were the Ainu returning here next door, who called Hebiyama their own home for ages longer than the Japanese?”

He paused and continued.

“From the soil of this bamboo forest, whose generations of ancestors are crying out now?”

“Get out!” Obá-chan screamed, and ran into her bedroom.

And Kenji left the house, not unnoticed by the agents sitting outside in their car.

Tokyo Twins – Chapters 11, 12 and 13

Chapter 11 – The flow of a brother’s fate.

Kenji went to his knees and held his arms around his sister and sobbed with her and felt her arms embracing his shoulders and back and younger brother and older sister became quiet of words within and they held this silence in silence hearing only their breathing combined.

She spoke first, “There must be a reason why you are here now. No one returns home after fifty years without something overwhelming guiding their return.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“You know, then, Kenji-san, what is happening in our lives right now?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“How do you know?” Obá-chan said.

“Let’s move over here to my camp and talk.” Kenji said, “the agents don’t come around until a bit a later…”

Obá -chan interrupted, “they know I’m at work and the girls at gym.”

“but they’ll return, and they mustn’t see me.” Kenji said.

They walked to his geodesic bamboo hut and sat down inside.

“I entered the country illegally. There was no time to get a passport,” Kenji said, “they are not looking for me – yet – but soon will be, and I cannot yet be found.”

“How did you enter Japan?”

“Contacts of mine in India and in Kashmir made arrangements for my… um, delivery.

“Kashmir?!” Obá-chan said.

“Yes, Kashmir.” Kenji said. “I have been living there for forty years. In areas controlled by both Hindus and Muslims.”

“This is where Mieko and Henry have gone missing!” Obá-chan said.

“Yes,” Kenji said.

“This is where Mieko and Henry have already visited and returned from several times!”

“Yes,” Kenji said.

“And you were aware of their visits?”

“Yes,” Kenji said.

“But you were never introduced.” Obá-chan surmised.

Obá-chan didn’t have to ask Kenji why he, himself, didn’t make the introduction to Mieko and Henry in Kashmir.

He was old enough when he left Japan to know how these things work. His history, his story, his existence dropped out of sight and sound among family members and friends after the first year or two of his disappearance.

They learned he was last seen boarding a freighter in Tokyo Bay headed for some place on the west coast of India. It seemed to be what Kenji wanted. He left willingly. In safety. All were happy to know this, but after he departed, they could not bear the pain of wondering about him out loud to each other.

His story was simply never passed on.  Mieko and Henry were unaware of his existence.

“Please tell me, Kenji-san, how all this came about,” Obá-chan said.

Kenji, his back straight and head and shoulders looking relaxed, shifted his weight a bit, sitting on haunches.

He began talking, measuring carefully his words in Japanese, his long sleeping native tongue.

“I first settled in India, in the state of Gujarat, in a city called Ahmadabad. There was a wonderful man I met on the boat that took me out of Japan.

“He was from Gujarat. His name was Tapan Majmudar. A trader of spices and cotton fabric. And a student of someone whose name I had never heard before. Mohandas Gandhi.”

“Gandhi.” Obá-chan repeated.

“Yes.” Kenji continued. “With kindness and patience,
Tapan Majmudar got me to tell him my story.  He listened to me word for word, and would often stop me to clarify one point or another as my story unfolded, or to ask me a question to further his own understanding.  I was speaking to him in a language he had only recently begun learning in order to do business in Japan. He trusted me, and I him, I had never heard a foreigner speak Japanese.

“He took me home with him to his family in Ahmadabad. I began learning Gujarati, the regional language, and Hindi, a more nationalized language of India. Soon after I was introduced to people at the Gandhi ashram near Ahmadabad on the Sabarmati River. Gandhi had been assassinated eight years before my arrival, but his students and his teachings lived on.

“I soon began living as a community member at the ashram.
It was a good place for me, One’-san.” Kenji continued, “I learned about Satyagraha, living a simple life that accepted every human being, regardless of who they were or what they believed.

The ashram was a spiritual place, not because of rituals or practices – Gandhi’s principles were not so much thoughts and forms as actions: of courage, of nonviolence, of truth. Gandhi called this Satyagraha, the manners in which we act are of greater value than the results of our acts.” Kenji said.

Obá-chan engaged Kenji with an insight, “The ends don’t justify the means.”

“Correct, Oné-san,” Kenji said, “universal words of common sense, and universally ignored in our common actions,” and he continued, “I felt accepted there, and unconfined, and free from the expectations of others, from the pressures of society and culture, I began to feel relaxed about the drama of my childhood.”

“You seem quite relaxed, Kenji-san, and you stutter no more.” Obá-chan said.

“I do sometimes,” Kenji said, “but the entire issue
gradually lost its significance as I began using other areas of my brain to learn new cultures and new ways of interacting with people, and new languages.” Kenji paused now and looked with a smile at his sister.

“You must be thirsty, Oné-san, would you like a glass of water?” Kenji said.

“I’m sorry, Kenji-san, I should be the one asking you.” replied Obá-chan, “it’s still early, let’s sneak into the house through the girls’ room and make some tea.”

Inside, Kenji felt at home but Obá-chan, although elated to see her brother, felt anxious to hear more.  He sat at the dining room table while his sister began to boil a pot of water.

“So how did you get to Kashmir?” she asked.

“I’m sorry for the long story, One’-san, I will try to make it short.”

He paused a few moments while his sister brought a fresh pot of green tea and two cups to the table.

“My first Japanese green tea in fifty years,” he smiled.

And Obá-chan was feeling too filled with emotion to reply.

“Gandhi wanted an India that was free and undivided. An India where Muslim and Hindu lived and worked together peacefully, as one national family. As you know, this did not happen. In 1947, India was granted her independence, but cut in two by politics and religion.

“There was India, free at last, and there was Pakistan too, and free as well, but now these sibling states turned immediately to war with each other.

“This situation saddened me so completely, Oné-san. My friends were of all faiths, Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Christian, Buddhist… I also began speaking Urdu, the language of Muslims in the area. Perhaps because of my childhood, perhaps because of Gandhi’s influence, I felt a responsibility to make a difference.

“In 1961, a friend of mine took me to Mumbai, or Bombay as you might still call it, to meet and to study with an obscure spiritual teacher named Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj.”

“I have not heard that name.” Obá-chan said.

“He was a humble man,” continued Kenji, “a cigarette maker, with a profound spiritual knowledge, not so much politically oriented like Gandhi’s, but deeper and more personal on the level of one’s heart.

“Nisargadatta lived and spoke a complete knowledge that was utterly simple, yet powerful, and easy to apply. This knowledge did not conflict with what I had learned at the ashram in Ahmadabad.

“On the contrary, for me, it made Gandhi’s principles of Satyagraha so much easier to live.” Kenji continued.

“I lived and worked in Mumbai for the next several years to be closer to my new teacher.

“As I felt progress within me, I changed my name – this was not required, merely something I wanted to do. My name is now Satchitananda.

“I followed in my teacher’s footsteps, and did as he did early in his spiritual growth, and I went north to live in the Himalayas.

“Nisargadatta gave me his blessing to do so, and warned me it would not be a permanent relocation.

“And he was right.

“After a few years of living a very simple life in the Himalayas devoted constantly to the peace and joy and love that surprisingly kept growing more and more inside of me, I left the mountains, and traveled to Kashmir, a beautiful and enchanting land, and a boiling pot of ignorance and hatred between two cultures, two peoples I had come to know and love: Hindus and Muslims.

“I have worked alone between these people for the last 40 years in a personal effort to unite them or at least to make things a little better.

“And I am afraid that I have failed. And now, my niece Mieko and her husband Henry, have fallen victim to the hatred between these people.

“So, you know who has them, and where they are?”

“I do not know, Oné-san,” Kenji said. “A group who wants attention has taken them only because of their nationalities. A Japanese and an American. A married couple. And they intend to use them to put forth a message.”

“So Mieko and Henry are in great danger.” Obá-chan stated.

“Yes,” replied Satchitananda , Mieko and Henry are in great danger.”

Chapter 12 – Green tea and treats uneaten.

They were drinking-in long silences – unselfconscious – over cups of loose green tea.

Obá-chan put out a plate of rice crackers short bread cookies and semi-sweet chocolates and these remained as they were, untouched, unlike those who sat at the table.

“No green tea for fifty years,” Obá-chan repeated her youngest brother’s words.

“Well, none this special,” he said.

“None this special existed even here during post war years until… after…” Obá-chan hesitated.

“My departure,” Kenji said.

“How does it happen, Kenji-san, that we… ? oh, I’m sorry…” Obá-chan said, “Satchitananda.”

“You, Oné-san, can call me whatever you like.”

“Thank you, Satchitananda-san,” Obá-chan started again, “how… how can such things happen? We are simple people. You too, hmmm, Otóto-san?”

Obá-chan addressed Kenji, in the honorific, as younger brother, the only name she ever called him growing up at home.

He smiled at how the sound of this word coming from her voice invoked a long ago sense of sweetness, for his older sister, deep and shimmering, now pouring out inside him, unforgotten, untouched unknown by time.

“ ‘How does it happen’ I was going to say, Otóto-san,” Obá-chan was speaking at sub-slow now: monotone, whispering and thoughtful, connected to herself.

“I am seventy five years old, too old, I used to pray for too much life as this right now. How is it that opposed and infinite feelings overwhelm me…, of loss… of joy?

“I used to pray if I were to live to old age I would not be one so built to run on such a rich admixture of fuel. I am so delighted, stunned, you are here, and also lost, broken, incomplete. My daughter is missing, and somehow I’ve gone missing too.”

Kenji was nodding almost imperceptibly with every word she spoke.

“I am so sorry, Otóto-san, this should be a time of great celebration… not a time of pain and confusion.”

She filled again the pot and added a pinch more tea then set the pot aside.

“How is it, Otóto-san, in the eyes of the Divine, when joy and hopelessness walk hand in hand? Hmm?  Are we not the most insane of anything at all in God’s creation?”

She tipped the pot into her brothers cup. He lifted the pot from her hands and tipped it likewise into hers.

“You are still Japanese, Otóto-san.”

He smiled.

“I am sorry to go on about me, you must be exhausted, though you do not look it. When did you arrive in Japan?”

“Six days ago.” he said.

“Six days ago?” she repeated. “Where did you go? What did you do? Wait. Six days?” Obá-chan was applying the duration, now, to happenings in Kashmir, “How long has this been going on?”

“In spite of news reports yesterday, Mieko and Henry were taken nearly two weeks ago. When I heard about it, I began my journey here.”

“I do not understand, Otóto-san, why you would leave your space on earth just as your own family… and in your own front yard,” she stopped and covered her mouth and lowered her head.

“I came here without weighing the pros and cons of where I should be, Oné-san.”

“But what can you possibly do here?” she said.

He looked quietly at her.

“Did you come here without even a plan?” she said.

He smiled. “There are plans coming together, Oné –san, though none that required unpacking upon my arrival in Japan.” he said.

“Back to my earlier question, then, Otóto-san, for the past six days where have you gone, what have you been doing?

“I made friends at Tokyo Station, and Ueno Station, and quite a few in Shinjuku.” he said.

“Friends.” Obá-chan said – a bit skeptical.

He nodded his head. She only shook hers.

“Let’s go back even earlier. Why and how did my children go missing in Kashmir?”

“There are two groups who claim responsibility: one Muslim. one Hindu.” he explained.

“That’s absurd.” Obá-chan said.

“Yes it is, Oné-san. It is indeed absurd, and unfortunately also true.” he said.

“Would you not have been the ideal negotiator, Otóto-san, with your experience, your connections
had you stayed?”

“I am known, yes, by many in both cultures, Oné-san, as one who favors harmony and community over separation and security. In the eyes of some younger groups, however, I am old school and disconnected from what they believe is real.” Kenji said.

“I’m grateful you are here.” Obá-chan said, “and so utterly confused. I am worried, too, about the girls, Katie and Susan. They are dedicated young athletes, with a crucial national competition just six days from now.

“Do they just wipe the feelings of this devastation from their minds, pretend it’s not happening, train like little robots for hours on end, and compete like heartless soldiers?

“Please understand, Otóto-san, I want them to do well. And Katie and Susan want to win. But the shock of this I don’t believe has hit them yet. When it does, I am worried how they’ll react, and what affect it might have on them, not just for the competition, but for the remainder of their lives. Surely, Otóto-san, you understand this, do you not?”

“Would you allow me, Oné-san, to spend some time with them this evening,
and perhaps the next few evenings, if they are agreeable, of course.”

“Don’t worry about that. Any chance to do anything, a bit different in their day is a rare luxury for them, and you do, beyond your blood connection, have perhaps something they need right now.

“What is that, Oné-san?”

“I don’t know.” she smiled looking away with a hint of gotcha back.

He thought a moment, “It is not youth, per se, nor inexperience or folly that misguides them now and then, even of these kidnappers in Kashmir.” he said.

“Kidnappers?” Obá-chan interrupted, “they are not kidnappers. they are terrorists, Otóto-san!”

“Perhaps, Oné-san, you’ll allow a continuation of that important topic soon, but allow me to say this. Youth are given little room on this planet to manifest the beautiful wisdom they must hide inside themselves. Children in this world have power unmeasured, unmapped… have reservoirs of knowledge and love and intuition… to which the older of us are blind. And yet… what hurts them as children keeps hurting them as adults… That night… do you remember, Oné-san?, as we walked to safety… the whole family?

“I feel so badly about what happened to you.” Obá-chan said.

“Well… I am not referring to me… someone else in our family was also badly hurt that night, and that pain is not only buried, it is sadly buried alive and boiling under a pressure that, true, may never explode, yet does keep the one who suffers from living, and loving, and being themselves. And out of adulthood ignorance, keeps them seeking relief by spreading their pain around.”

“Who? What? What happened? Who is it?” Obá-chan said.

“Will you do me the favor of allowing this story to unfold on its own a bit more before you learn the details?” Kenji said.

She tilted her head and squinted her eyes.

“And one additional favor, Oné-san. Please tell no one I have returned?”

“What about the girls? Obá-chan said.

“Tell them who I am right now.” he said.

Obá-chan squinted a bit harder.

“Tell them I am Satchitananda.”

And with that he almost made her smile.
Chapter 13 Part 1 – Big breakfast.

“Have you seen or heard anything suspicious
in this wooded area?”

Kaneko-san and Taya-san were trying to get a word in edgewise while the girls prepared for school and the day.

“Excuse me, but no discussion at breakfast, gentlemen.  And not because you are here,” Obá-chan said. “The girls need their breakfast, and a good one. And excuse me for saying so, but it looks as though you could use more than just a little breakfast yourselves. Both of you. Have a seat… Katie-chan, would you please grab tea cups for the gentleman…
Natto with your rice? Kaneko-san?”

“No thank you.”

“You Taya-san? You’re a Tokyo lad.”

“Yes, please, um…”

“You can call her Obá-chan.” Susan said. “She’ll like it.”

Obá-chan tried concealing her smile but it was too late.

“Yes please… Obá-chan,” Taya-san said.

The men sat charmed and barely eating.

“There’s mackerel, there’s melon, there’s ume-…, Susan-chan, hand Kaneko-san the umeboshi.”

The skin on Kaneko-san’s face grew tight and his eyes stood suddenly still.

“A salty plum with your fermented bean curd never hurt anyone, did it Taya-san?” Obá-chan said.

“Thank you, Obá-chan.” he said, and grabbed an umeboshi for his natto, his head and eyes still a bit lowered.

“Now gentlemen, I believe you had some questions for the girls?”

The men in concert put down their bowls of rice, their hashi, sat up straight a bit and grabbed their napkins on their laps with both hands.

“Katie-Susan-chan. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious in this wooded area?” Taya-san said carefully.

“Sir, we don’t go in there. Obá-chan says it’s haunted.”

“That’s not our question.” Kaneko-san interjected.

Obá-chan raised the muscles above her eyes.

“Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?” Taya-san said again.

“If a place is haunted, sir, with all due respect, would it not continually emit rather odd sounds and visions?”

“I don’t know.” Kaneko-san said.

“Well this haunted place, Sir, is no different than others. We’ve grown used to it over the years.” Katie said.

“And they’ve grown used to us.” said Susan.

“We seem to get along just fine,” Katie said. “nothing suspicious.”

“Just the normal haunted stuff…” Susan added.

“Good morning everyone.” Kenji from the back hallway suddenly walked into the room.

The girls looked at each other with big eyes and turned away.

Obá-chan quickly gathered herself.

“You’re looking a bit sleepy this morning, dear cousin.” she said,

“Oh, gentlemen? Allow me to introduce our cousin visiting from Guam, Sachinosuke Mori. Dear cousin, these men from the Japan Foreign Ministry are helping us during our crisis.”

“An honor to meet you,” Kenji said, “with great hopes of making a good relationship.”

“How do you do, Mori-san.” the men said.

“Welcome to Tokyo.”

“We must be off, Obá-chan.” said the girls getting up and grabbing their schools packs and shintaiso gear.

“And I must be off for an appointment in Shinjuku.” said Kenji.

“Come on girls, let’s walk together to Fuda Station.”

“No breakfast, dear cousin?” Obá-chan said.

“No thank you, I ate early this morning.” he said and followed the girls out the door moving backward, bowing a bit up and down until he shut the door still facing those whose company he was leaving.

“You are not our cousin, are you, Satchitananda-san?” Katie said.

“No, I am not.”

“Why did you come in and allow yourself to be seen?” Susan said.

“I am hiding.” he said.

The girls shook their heads.

“Well?” he said. “Sometimes it is easier to hide something in clear view.”

“Even yourself?” Susan said.

“Sometimes especially yourself.” Kenji said.

They walked for ten minutes mostly in silence.

“We can talk again tonight?” the girls asked.

“I look forward to it.” said Kenji.

“In Hebiyama?” Susan said.

“Yes,” he said.

Chapter 13 Part 2 – Down under and the big inside.

Kenji stood outside Shinjuku Station and turned around.

“Ah, Edo-san.” he said.

“Can you come with me, Satchitananda-san?”

Edo-san was in her late fifties and probably as familiar with Shinjuku Station as its builders were.

He followed her around to the busy south exit, but not out the door.

She led Kenji to a wall beneath a staircase drumming currently and loudly with the footsteps above of a thousand commuters on the fly.

She slid back a large panel of sheet metal, enough for them to slip into and behind, and led him by the hand through damp and dripping walkways lit barely by too few low-watt incandescent bulbs, and then down a narrow flight of stairs, and then another more dark, and then another completely black.

She knocked a couple times on one of the walls, apparently made of wood. There was movement from the wall, and a hand came over the hands they held, and said, “Good to see you.”

And the three hands moved together through many steps of void until a line of light appeared at the bottom of something somewhere.

And then opened up a cavernous room, if you can call it that, where women and men gathered in smiles and nods, and bows here and there.

“Where are we?” Kenji asked.

“Welcome to the Tokyo Metropolitan Sewer System.” said Edo-san.

“Nice digs.” he smiled.

“We like it.” she smiled back.

And the two removed their shoes and set them by a line of a couple dozen more, and walked across make-shift carpet flooring and sat down.

“Would you like coffee or green tea?” A new voice spoke. But not a new face.

“Ah, my friend Yamoto-san from Harajuku, how are you,” Kenji said. “Tea would be nice.” he added.

It was a loose group, Kenji thought, unpretentious, self-knowing. He was impressed, but not too surprised. He could feel an energy coming off this group he had often felt among the poor, hard to describe, he thought, but easy to feel…

He sat watching his new friends.
Hmm. He smiled a thought. These are unself-serving people – and for no reason – and unattached, unattached to the very thing they have the most to give. Must be love, he smiled.

Who’d a thunk it, or even made it up: This unlikely and delicate palette for compassion, and more unlikely still, for joy, among the poor?

There were, naturally, he thought, those among this group of twenty-five, that figured this Kenji guy for nothing but crazy. A comfort to know, he smiled to himself, some reputations, well earned, never change.

He stood up and stood still a moment, looked around and got a nod from Edo-san across the room.

“Hello and thank you all for coming.” Kenji began. “Gives us a chance to touch base. Wasn’t aware many here are already good friends. Thanks to each of you for meeting with me over the past week.

“Each of us knows now, what actions to perform…when and if the party does break out.

“It’s the outcome of these actions that I am here to discuss with you today.

“Only a couple of you, carry our delivery on its final steps, but each of you carries it for some distance, so each will know exactly where our package is being delivered.”

Kenji stopped and reached into his bag and unfolded something for a moment, then displayed before the group a large print of a building.

“Jifu Television,” someone said.

“Their headquarters.” said another.

“Down by the river.” it was added.

“Good, good, good,” Kenji said. “Each of you has my cell number. Feel free to contact me anytime, and thank you for coming here today.”

“Question please, Satchitananda-san?” Someone asked.

“Yes.”

“Satchitananda-san, it’s been mentioned by more than a few of us sitting here in this room… how can I say this… several of us have become aware that the dates and times when each of us individually or in small groups first met with you… these points in time are, well, not only close together, they are identical.

Kenji looked at them.

“Can you comment?”

The question came from Yamoto-san.

“Is that so?” Kenji said.

“It’s very strange, can you explain it?” Yamoto-san added.

Kenji paused. “I’m sorry.” he said. “I cannot explain it.”

There was silence in the group and people looking at one another.

“Satchitananda-san?”

“Yes.”

“One more question?”

“Yes.”

“What is it exactly we’re delivering?”

Kenji paused again and smiled.

“Oh yeah.” he said.

Chapter 13 Part 3 – Unless you’re movin’ on down the line.

On a train going north from New Delhi to the northern frontier of Kashmir, a young man of sixteen squirmed about while trying to sit, trying to sleep, from this long train ride, and from his longer journey the past 48 hours.

It was dawn already again, a dark crimson sun rising slowly onto his shoulder through the window and then too quickly into blinding flash.

“Not a bad time to wake up,” he mumbled in his thoughts, “if you’re not dying to get some sleep.”

He wrapped his long arms around his feet and ankles and pulled his knees up-under his chin.

“I don’t give a shit who says what,” he started back in with himself. “You got my parents, you got my parents, you got my parents, you amazingly stupid… …” and so forth.

He sat and slowly shook his head, focused his gaze on nothing, and stared into the relief of a daydream.

For a moment the sky inside his head was blue, blue but awaiting the storm of his own anger to continue slapping him up and down.

“I better eat something.”

And he got up, walked forward to the next car and looked for coffee or a snack or maybe real food.

An old man suddenly stood up, his back to the boy, his legs spread into the aisle.

Jack tripped and fell over the old man’s ankle to keep from knocking him down, and landed face up and spread eagle, arms and legs tangled with tourists.

Jack shut his eyes tight a few seconds, embarrassed, then opened them up to an unknown smile on a face twelve inches from view, on a face that should really not have been there, on a face that made him forget where he was.

“Hmm..” the old man said and stood, “thought I’d seen everything.”

“Well you ain’t, so move along, grandpa.” the kid reacted.

“Grandpa?” the old man smiled.

The kid nodded a bit, determined, and looked at the old man, then stared away.

“You’re American.” the old man said.

“Sarcasm don’t work here, pops..” the kid said.

“Hmm. Am I hearing American English? And spoken native? Let see. Somewhere around – not-quite-Minnesota – what’s that state called… Missouri, I think? Kansas? No. Are-kansas.”

“Iowa.” Jack said.

“Iowa! that’s right. I always forget about Iowa.”

“And it’s Arkansas. Not Are-kansas.”

The old man nodded his head to think, “Iowa City?”

“Des Moines.” Jack said.

“Born and raised?”

“Born there. Learned English from my father.”

The old man paused. “and from your mother?” he said.

The old man reached down with both hands, waited for the kid to grab on and pulled.

“Maybe the same thing as you.” the kid said.

The old man dipped his head briefly to the side against thin air.

“Or not.” he said in native street-level Japanese.

“Or not.” the kid responded in kind and smothered a knowing smile.

“What’s upsetting you?” the old man said, concerned, his voice trailing up in the end.

“At the moment?” Jack mumbled at the side of his mouth, “Having company.”

“My company? Pardon me?” the old man said. “Come, let’s sit down.”

Jack sat down, frustrated, embarrassed, exhausted. Silent on the outside, raging on the in.

“What brings you to this neck of heaven? School trip?” the old man smiled. “Well. I thought for a moment I might have broken through here.” The old man took an intentional breath and dipped his head again, “Long trip ahead. I’m in the next car if you need anything.” the old man started getting up.

“I’m Jack O’Brien.” Jack said and forced his hand forward.

The old man paused.

“I am Satchi…” The noise from a brief tunnel drowned out the word.

“Pardon me.” Jack leaned his head forward. “All I heard was Sachiko… and I do believe that is a girl’s name?”

Satchitananda. he annunciated this time.

“Ah, sa chee tow a na n da – san, desu i yo, ne.” Jack said.

“So desu ne.” Kenji responded. “Yoroshiku.”

“Same to ya,” Jack responded in English. “One a your parents from India, or what?”

“You still hungry?” Kenji said. “Come on. Let’s eat. It’s the best thing about taking the train in India.”

“What.” Jack said.

“You haven’t noticed?”

“What.”

“The incredible food sold at every stop! Right along the tracks. Just for us. Come on. The train’s slowing down. We’re stopping in a few moments.”

And they sampled in healthy amounts the charming and lively masalas of northern India and the curds and pickles and nan. A lady offered gulab jammins for dessert, maybe later for a snack, she insisted.

“No thanks,” Jack said, but Kenji stopped and dug into his pocket to buy a small tin.

“So, what’s your story, Satchitananda-san?”

The old man sat working a tooth pick with his mouth and spoke. “I have lived in this part of the world, in these cultures, for a long time and though it’s not necessary to say so to an experienced and capable young man, allow me, Jack O’Brien, to offer my assistance to you at least over the following couple days to where ever it is you’re going.”

“I think perhaps I can find help enough from nearly anyone sitting around us.” Jack said.

“Quite true, my friend. Quite true.” He paused, his mouth still at work on the pick. “… except for that gentleman three benches back – don’t look – beige linen suit… sunglasses… interested in your every move.” Kenji stopped.

“What.” Jack said. “You trying to scare me.”

Kenji looked patiently at him.

“Yes I am.” he said nodding and went on, “Is it working, Jack O’Brien? Enough to make you stop and consider what it is you’re doing?”

- end of chapter 13 -

Apart from Bengali foods people can try North Indian foods like Punjabi foods or Mughlai even frontier foods are also available. Some famous restaurants include Azad Hind Dhaba at Ballygunje circular road (Punjabi foods), Dum Pakht at ITC Sonar Bangla (Punjabi), Guchi (Punjabi) at Hyatt Regency, Saffron at the Park Hotel in Park Street (Punjabi), Sonargaon at Taj. Frontier foods are available in Kafila at City Center and at Sigree in Silver Arcade EM Bypass Lane. Some dishes that can be tried out here are Biriyanis, Chaps, Kababs, Kormas and Firni. Apart from these big ones a very famous hotel named Royal Indian Hotel is there in Chitpur. It is famous for its Tikiyas, Biriyanis, and chaps. Also similarly Sabir in Ganesh Chandra Avenue is famous for its Rezala. Aminia is famous for its Biriyani.

Chinese food destination includes the famous Park Street. In this place some good Chinese restaurant like Bar-B-Q, Tung-Fong, Peiping, Beijing, Marco Polo In China, Japanese foods at Jongs, Jimmy’s Kitchen at C.I.T road. All types of Chinese foods are available here but if you are really experimental with Chinese food then a good destination will be at Mainland China in Gurusaday Road or at Hakka in City Centre.

There is an area in Kolkata called China Para. In this place you can have the most elegant Chinese food cheap and best in quality, although it is not very safe to go that place.

Multicuisine restaurants include Amber at Waterloo Street, Caught n Bowled in City Center, Sourav’s at Park Street, Charnock City at Salt Lake, sizzlers at Mocambo, Peter Cat in Park Street and continental at Hush and Kobe’s in City Center is also very famous. Other famous restaurants include Floriana at Russell Street, Trincas at Park Street, Kurry Klub at Sarat Bose Road and many more.

There are lots of small hotels like Randu Babu Shop Famous for its Mutton Kasa, Monohar Agor which is famous for its Chops, Aileen is famous for its Prawn Cutlet, Mitra Café is famous for its Kabiraji (A mutton Chop)., Chacha’s Ghoogni (A recipe prepared from Grams and Mutton). Also in Esplanade you can find lots of chat shops. In Anglo Indian Area (Para) you can have Beef Steak from Braganza’s. Even Olly Pub makes good Beef Steak.

Vegetarians are also having good scope for having nice food here. Vegetarian Restaurants Include Rajasthani food delicacy at Teej and Gangaur in Park Street, Haveli at Salt Lake, Haldirams in Rabindra Saranani, ISKON sponsored Gokul, Gupta Brothers, and lots of more including South Indian foods at Raj, Chennai Kitchen and lots more.

Coffee House….Its a status of Kolkata. Big minds like Acharya Jagadish Chandra Basu (Scientist), Satyendra Nath Bose (Scientist), Muzzaffar Ahmed (Affectionately called Kaka Babu, politician), Satyajit Ray (Director), Netaji (No introduction needed), and lots of great mind have tasted its coffee and puffed packets of cigarettes here. From this place great ideas born. Although now smoking is banned, but still coffee house preserves its status and glory. A whole blog can be written on coffee house. It is located in just opposite to Presidency College at College Street an area famous for books and Bengalis called this area as “Boi Para” (Area of Books).

Apart from these things there are MacDonald’s, KFC, Pizza Hut, Dominoes, Barista, and CCD. Modern Bengalis go to these places where as oldies like me prefer Sharbat from Kaplia Ashram.

Sweets are the most valuable food in a Bengali thali. Rassgulla, Gulapjamun, Sondesh, Rabri, Cham Cham, Doi (Dahi), Ladoo to name a few. Sweet culture in Kolkata can be divided in two categories. One Bengali sweets and other Non-Bengali sweets.

Bengali sweets include Rassgulla (Mascot of Kolkata), Cham Cham, Monohora, Malpoa, Chanar Jalebi, Doi, Nikhuti, Jora Mundi, Sor Bhaja, verities of Sandesh, Ladicanni, Langcha, Kalo Jam, Dorbesh, Danadar, Ladoo, Rabri, RasMundi, Chana pora to name a few. Famous Bengali shops include Bheem Nag, Nabin Chandra Moira, Bancharam, Ganguram, Gobindo, Satyanarayan, K.C Das, Balaram, Girish Nakur, to name a few.

Non Bengali sweets are from north India. It is available at Haldiram’s, Chappan Bhog, Bhikaram, Bikaner Bhujiawala and lots more.

Some famous confectionary includes Flurys, Nahoms, Cakes, Kookie Jar, Candy Treats. Ice cream can be available at Baskin Robbins Outlets, Mamma Mia at Ballygunje Circular Road, Xrong Place etc. Try Lemon Tart at Kookie Jar.

Pan is the end touch to Bengali Thali. Lots of Pan shops are there in Kolkata.Famous is Dutta Babur Paan in college street where a single pan can give you a pinch of 5000 Rupees.

At the end we will come to Bars. Famous bars include Chowringhee Bar (Excellent Vodka are available), Cloud Nine at Astor, Polo Club at Hotel Hindustan International, The Bar at Hyatt Regency (Lovely Cocktails), The Junction at Taj (best Ambience), Trincas and many more.

He said that each new literary effort leaves him even more convinced that Urdu literature in general and poetry in particular was not only maintaining its position but actually gaining stature and following. He said that poetry to him is a balance between one’s innate ability to feel, observe and create verse, and the technical craft that can be learnt, honed and polished. “A good verse has to strike a perfect balance between beauty of thought and a technically sound craftsmanship in its expression,” he added.

He urged all new writers to continue to work hard on the craftsmanship of writing. Shabnam Shakil, a renowned poetess while commenting on ‘Kiyun’ termed Sharjeel’s verse as “immensely mature both in thought and style of expression”, especially for someone whose very first collection of poetry has come out.

She also appreciated the author’s command over the Urdu language, especially the strong Persian and Arabic flavor in it. Meanwhile, the author, Sharjeel, regaled the audience with lighthearted tales of the hardships faced by first-time authors in getting their works published.

He hoped that poetry fans across the border and second generation of Pakistani Diaspora allover the world who can understand but cannot read Urdu will find the website a useful platform for remaining in touch with their roots back home. The event was attended by poetry lovers of the twin-cities.-SANA

Farideh Mahdavi Damghani will translate the book into French and Iran’s cultural attaché in Canada will sponsor the English version. The head of the Centre of Persian and Central Asian Studies of the New Delhi’s Jawaharlal Nehru University, Akhtar Mehdi is translating the book into Urdu and, once completed, the Urdu version will be distributed in Pakistan, India and Afghanistan.

Iran’s cultural attaché in Tashkent will publish the Urdu version of the book that is now being translated by Shakirjan Alamov. Published by Madreseh Publications, the theme of the book is the life of Prophet Muhammad (S). Hassanbeigi’s book for elementary school children entitled “Golden Fish and Silver Fish” was translated into Turkmen by Maral Batirova and published in Turkmenistan recently.

Khokhar pointed out that Prime Minister Syed Yousuf Raza Gilani has given directive that first ever Pakistan Culture Centre in foreign country to be established in Beijing. He said that in this connection he will hold preliminary talks with Ambassador Masood Khan. ‘We have brought with us the message of peace, love and harmony for our Chinese Friends”, he said.

He expressed the hope that the performance of our troupe will be appreciated by the Chinese audience. Khokhar further said that with the visit of our cultural troupe the already existing strong relations between Pakistan and China will further be cemented.

According to the organizers of the Festival 19 troupes from difference countries and regions will present their performance on the occasion. The Festival will be organized between September 25 to October 10 in Zhengzhou.

Input from Agencies

Educated at St.John’s College, Cambridge, Ralph wrote profuse articles and essays in Urdu and English and attended many literary seminars and workshops on the subject of his specialization. He has been famous for his translation of Mirza Ghalib poetry into English and is considered as an authority on the 18th century sub-continent poet. His few of the books are
Ghalib, Life and Letters
The Oxford India Ghalib
The Seeing Eye
Selections from the Persian ghazals of Ghalib
Ghalib, the Poet and his Age
The Famous Ghalib

He was Farhad Darya, one of Afghanistan’s most popular singers and a household name. Mr Darya, who had been living in exile, was one of the first singers to return to Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban in 2001. Now, the 46-year-old celebrity runs a charity named Kochah, meaning street in Dari, to supplement the incomes of Kabul widows and their children.

Kochah provides widows with $50 a month to keep their children off the street and help them receive education.” My daughter used to collect bread from other families and my son gathered rubbish from a nearby American base for firewood,” says Bibi Roagoal, who lost her first husband to a suicide attack four years ago.

Please turn on JavaScript. Media requires JavaScript to play. How one Afghan star is helping children get back to school? Her second marriage – to her late husband’s brother – ended in tragedy when he died in a car crash. But now the monthly donation from Kochah has changed Bibi Roagoal’s life for the better. Her children attend school and the family has money for food.

“Only a few months ago, this would not have been possible,” says the widow. Her smile and excitement refuse to leave her face. “My children go to school now so they won’t be illiterate like me.” Thousands of widows and orphans are a legacy of Afghanistan’s many wars which have claimed countless lives, among them many husbands and fathers.

According to the United Nations, there are 37,000 street children in Afghanistan’s capital. Nearly all are fatherless. In an almost exclusively male-dominated society with little opportunity for women to find employment, many fatherless children are the main bread-winners for their families.

They work year-round – under burning sun or in freezing snow – instead of going to school. And most of them are engaged in odd jobs. Ajmal – a witty 13-year-old who enthusiastically sells gum on the outskirts of Kabul – says his biggest wish is that he could attend school.

“My family relies on my work,” he says. “So I try to sell as much as I can. I wish I could focus more on my school, but I can’t afford to.” There are also many who do not work and provide for their mothers and siblings by begging. Like Hussain, 14, for whom begging is an accepted fact of life. He would attend school if he could, but instead spends 10 hours a day begging on the streets of Kabul.

“I tried to work,” he says “so my family could live an honourable life, but my boss at the shop paid me very little. I tried a few other jobs, but finally I decided to beg. “I have always wanted to be a teacher. I still have hopes that our government will help the poor like us.” The monetary help Kochah is able to provide comes from Darya’s concerts and private donations.

Darya says Kochah is a non-profit organisation, and that he absorbs the administrative costs himself. However, he says, funding is not easy to come by. ”There are thousands of Afghan traders around the world and they spend thousands of dollars everyday without thinking, but when we approach them about Kochah, they don’t give,” he says. “A lot of Afghans in the West promise help, but few follow through.” Kochah aims to assist 2,000 widows. So far, it has managed to help somewhere between 250 and 300. Says Bibi Roagoal: “I pray for peace in my country all the time, because war took everything away from me. “I don’t want another mother to be widowed, or their kids orphaned.”-SANA

Born into a family with a centuries-long tradition of Qawwali singing, Khan began recording in the early ‘70s after ignoring his father’s wishes that he pursue medicine. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was considered as one of the greatest Qawwals in the world. Khan was a master of Qawwali singing, which combines lyrics from Sufi religious poems with hypnotic rhythms and vocal chants.

He never performed in English, he sang in Urdu, Punjabi and occasionally Persian. Khan also captivated many Westerners, including such musicians as Vedder, Joan Osborne and the late Jeff Buckley, as well as Hollywood types like Sean Penn, Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins.

Khan had made a great impression on the music scene with his mix of Eastern poetic music with that of the West. After traveling to London for treatment for liver and kidney problems, Khan was rushed from the airport to Cromwell Hospital, where he suffered a fatal heart attack. Khan departed from this sphere on the 16th of August 1997, and will be missed immensely by his fans all across the globe.-SANA

Careful analysis of the lyrics reveals how these two videos video and their lyrics relates to an individualistic audience whereas the other one is for the collective audience. The general theme of both the videos and its lyrics warrants its viewers to think about a certain question. The question in both cases is related to situations where the present condition is not satisfactory and either there is a need to do much more or there is a puzzle as to the way things are and how they came to be.

Analyzing the video by Switchfoot we can see that the lyrics address an individual in the first three verses. The next verses although say “we were meant to live for so much more”, we in this case is not used to refer to a collective group but what he means is that we as individuals were meant to do so much more. The individualistic notion can be judged from the fact that the singer asks for a second life to make things right. Such a request leads us to believe that the singer is referring to an individualistic audience residing in western, advanced and developed nations which has grievances about how a person’s nature has become and a need for a second chance to make him less materialistic, nature loving and a better human being. Also the video focuses on a single singer to emphasize the individualistic notion.

Video by Strings presents a group of two and their lyrics presents ideas or question which do not directly focus on an individual and is more of a general nature. The references to occurrences of nature like light, fragrance, clouds indicates that the video corresponds to a collectivist audience which resides in a more traditional and less developed society where focus is more towards spiritual happening. Also ideas like aspiration and hope are more close to a collectivist society.

A conclusion can be drawn here to differentiate between an individualistic approach and collective approach and ultimate culmination of these approaches can be clearly felt in these two videos and their lyrics.

“This is a gradual process, this is not something that could be done in one, two or three years because we are talking about a country that is essentially medieval, that has very little in the way of infrastructure, very little in the way of human resource, that has an endemic culture of corruption”, he said.

He added that even if Afghanistan was to continue at its present “good” rate of economic growth, it would still be 15 years before it reached the level that Bangladesh is at now. “This truly is a long-term Endeavour. I don’t think it is that long-term an Endeavour for the military. I think we are talking about some years but we are not talking about decades”. While he acknowledged that the Western coalition faced a “mammoth problem” in Afghanistan, the Chief of the Defense Staff said that it was important not to be put off by the scale of the difficulties.

Air Chief Marshal Stirrup said he was “disappointed” that other NATO allies had not been prepared to send more troops to the south and east of the country where British, American and Canadian forces have borne the brunt of the fighting. While he said that the Taliban were in “an extremely bad way” militarily, he warned they still had the capacity to launch effective attacks using suicide bombers and improvised roadside devices, as the recent deaths of seven British soldiers had shown.

“They can still mount very serious asymmetric attacks. We don’t take that lightly”, he concluded. At least 106 British servicemen have been killed in Afghanistan. More than 7,000 UK troops are deployed in the country, mainly in the trouble southern Helmand Province.-SANA

Other details and instructions regarding the Urs are available on the Application Form and on the official website www.mora.gog.pk as well. Applications on old forms will not be entertained. Amir Khusrau Dehlavi (1253-1325 AD), a prolific classical poet associated with royal courts of more than seven rulers of Delhi Sultanate, is also a household name in much of North India and Pakistan, through hundreds of playful riddles, songs and legends attributed to him. Through his enormous literary output and the legendary folk personality, Khusrau represents one of the first (recorded) Indian personages with a true multi-cultural or pluralistic identity.

It was a very old saying about a Bengali babu. Food has always been a weakness for Bengalis. In those days Bengalis used to spend a large amount of money just for the sake of food. A Bengali babu has never hesitated in throwing a party to others, and if for the sake of it, they had to exhaust all their wealth they never did minded at all. Not only in marriage ceremonies, any occasion to them was a party time and in these parties lavish expenditure on food reduced many to a popper. Bengalis have been winners in all the delicacies they have presented to the world. Not just mutton, fish and vegetables but the variety of confections and array of fruit dishes have always overawed the gluttons of the world.

Fish has always played an important role in Bengali culture.”Maach Bhhat Banaye Bangali” or “Mache bhate khanti bangali” these phrases describes the intimacy of fish in Bengali culture. Also it should be noted that fish is very nutritious as well as it’s a good source of protein. It is the most reliable source of protein for over one million people all over the world. Fish is among the most common food allergens.

There are lots of variety of fish that adheres to the Bengali culture. The most famous being Hilsa fish (Ilish) and Lobster (Golda, Bagda).Other famous fish includes Tengra, Parshe, Pabda, Gurjawali, Arr,Gule,Pakal,Kajri,Telapiya…..to name a few.

Some famous fish dishes include Ilish macher sorshe paturi(Hilsa fish in mustard curry binded in banana leaves), ilish maach bhappe(Steamed Ilish),ilish mach kancha kumror jhool(Hilsa with pumpkin),Ilish macher kaachkola diye jhool(hilsa fish with kacha kela),Daab chingri(Prawns with Coconut),Chitol macher Muitha(Chitol fish recipe),Mourala Batichochori(Mourala delicacy), Rui Macher Golap Soru(Fish and Rice cooked together), Koi Macher er horogouri , Koi macher Ganga Jamuna…..and lots of more.

In both parts of Bengal (West Bengal and East Bengal-Bangladesh) fish forms the main recipe. Typically in Bangladesh there is special variety or style of cooking fish. Particularly Chattagram (Chittagong), Lakhipur

these sea facing areas dry up the fishes and cook them with Brinjal and potatoes. This variety is known as “Shutki”. It is a complete East Bengal delicacy. In Dhaka people are more fond of Hilsa and other fishes. In fact the most famous recipe of fishes comes from Dhaka.

A Bengali marriage without fish dishes is incomplete. In marriage special fish dishes include “Rui Macher Kalia” (Rui Fish Curry), “Macher Matha diye Dal” (Dal with Fish Head), “Bhetki Paturi” (Bhetki in Mustard Sauce), “Chingri Macher Malaikari” (Prawns in Coconut curry), “Rui Posto” (Rui in Khus Khus curry), “Ilish Paturi” to name a few. In modern days new dishes like Fish Butter Fry or Fish Orley are also considered.

Fish apart from being taken as food is also considered to be pious. In Hindu culture it is widely used during Saraswati Puja (Jora Ilish’er Bhog). In famous Kali Temple in Kolkata as well as in Dhakeshwari in Dhaka fish is offered to Devi Kali. Fish is often considered as Lakshmi according to Hindu Tradition. In Bengal, before going out of their homes people like to see a fish as because it is considered a lucky one.

Apart from fish, Mutton is a favourite food of Bengal. Some of the mutton dishes include “Kosha Mangsho”( Mutton Curry), “Koch Pathar Jhol” (Mutton Thin Curry), “Mutton Chap in Bengali style”, “Mangshor Jhol” (Mutton Stew) , “Bhojoharir Mangsho” (Mutton dish by Famous imaginary Bengali cook named Bhojohari Manna), “Mangshor Patla Jhol” (Special Mutton Curry) , “ Mutton Dakbanglo” (A dish of Mutton Served during the British Raj), to name a few. Mutton is a must in a Marriage. Mutton is offered to Devi Kali by giving ‘Bali’ to the Devi. So in religion it takes an important place.

Chicken does is not included in traditional Bengali food list. In olden days Hindus of Bengal strictly avoided chicken. But Muslim Bengalis used to have chicken. But with the advancement of days people started to take up chicken. Also with the rise up in cost of mutton chicken is a replacement for mutton.

Favorite chicken dishes includes “Murgir Jhol” (Chicken Curry), “Kosha Murgi” (Chicken Dry Curry) ,” Bon Murgir jhol” (Jungli Murga) to name a few.

Other Non-Veg foods includes Crabs (Kankra), Moluscles (Geri). There is a famous crab dish called “Digama sahib er Kankra”. This crab dish was eaten by Vasco Da’ Gama.

Beef forms an important part in Muslim Bengali culture. During Bengali New Year they cook a very special dish known as “Goru kalia”. Also favorite beef dishes include “Beef Kosha”, Beef Cutlet”, “Beef Chop”. “Beef Biriyani” …to name a few.

There is lot of Non veg Bengali foods. But there are lots of veg foods too. These Bengali veg foods are very important. In a typical Hindu Bengali home a widow is forbidden to take Non-veg foods. So, it forms an important diet for a Hindu widow. Some great traditional Bengali veg foods include “Potoler Dolma” (Parval preparation), “Dhoka Dalna” , “Labra” (Mixed Vegetables) , “Ghoogni”(Matar Sabji), “Aloor Dum”, “Niramish Chochori” (Mixed Vegetables) , “Lau Borir Ghanto”(Lauki with Bari), “ Mulo Ghonto”, “Cholar Dal” (Chana Dal), “Sona Muger Dal”(Moong Dal), “Mochar Ghonto” , Shukto, to name a few.

A very famous dish in Bengal is Posto (Poppy seeds). It can be made with Vegetables like Aloo, Cauliflower, Bhindi, Taru…etc It is also prepared with Mutton, prawns or Chicken. Bengalis really love posto.

Biriyani is not a traditional food in Bengal but Pulao is prepared in al over Bengal. Although, In Dhaka-Bikrampur there is Biriyani called Dhakai Biriyani. In Bengal people used to take just plane rice and Mutton or fish. Khichri (Khichuri) forms a very traditional food in Bengali culture. It is taken during the monsoon season with Beguni or Ilish Bhaja and pappar, Achar. Kichuri is also served as an “Asthumi Bhog” during the famous Durga Pujas.

There are varieties of breads and snacks or starters in Bengali. Luchi is the most famous bread. It is served traditionally with “Kosha Mangsho” or Aloor Dum or Cholar Dal. Dhakai Paratha is a famous paratha variety. Paratha in Bengal is also served with “Kumro’r Chakka” (Pumpkin Sabji). Snacks include “Beguni, Allor Chop, Mochar Chop, Kabiraji, Hingche Chop, Cutley”…..and lots of more.

There are lots of varieties of chutneys is prepared in Bengal. This includes Chalta Chutney, Mango Chutney (Fatik Jhol), Amra Chutney, Jalpai Chutney…and many more.

Bengali sweet is famous all over the world. In whole of Indian subcontinent no other place for sweet. The traditional Rassgulla (Rossogolla) was first invented in Dhaka by Nabin Chandra Das in 1765 AD. However in 1782 when he shifted his base to Kolkata, Rasgulla became a part of Kolkata. In 1852, Bishnu Charan Guin invented a sweet and named it after Lord Canning’s Wife Lady Canning. With the passage of days it camed to known as “Ladicanne”. Other sweets include Dahi(Doi)(Molla Chowk), Monohara(Janai),Lengcha(Shaktigarh), Rosmalai(Commila), Pantua(Ranaghat),chomchom(Kolkata),Jora Mundi(Krshnanagar),ChanaBora(Midnapore),Golap Papri,Suji Halua,Sandesh(Dhaka , Kolkata),Patishapta(Faridpur),Payesh(Kheer), Zarda, Pithe(During Winters),Shor Bhaja(Murshidabad)…and there are lots of lots of more. These are just a few.

At the end of everything Pan formed an important ending of a Bengali feast. Pan is traditionally served with Chun (Chuna), Khair (Katha), Supuri (Supari), Mitha Masala, Chaman Bahar, Elaichi, Gulkand, Chutni.

Some Famous Dishes from Different Districts of Bengal:

1. Ilish Paturi (Dhaka-Bikrampur).

2. Chitol Mitha and Kalia (Faridpur).

3. Shutki (Chittagong, Narayanganj, lakhipur, Noakhali, Barishal, Patuakhali).

4. Mangsho kosha (Kolkata)

5. Chingri Bhate (Murshidabad).

6. Chingri Malaikari (West Bengal).

7. Ilish Bhate (Mymensingh , Sylhet)

8. Dhoka (West-Bengal)

9. Posto (Bengal)

10. Kopi Chochori (Tangail).

To name a few……………………………………………

But in these days people are too busy to make this preparation. So, they are inclining towards these bogus pizza and burgers. New generations are totally unaware of these foods. They even, haven’t heard the names. Bengal is losing its culture and if it goes on in this manner, it will not take too much time when these foods will be in the pages of history. However, apart from Bengali foods Bengali are now consuming varities of food. Including Punjabi, Chinese, Italian, Mexican…etc

“Ore Bangali roili na je tui bangali…..maach bhat chere dhorli le je biliti khana”

(Oh! Bengali……..you are no longer a Bengali……..For the sake of continental food you have forgotten your culture. You have stopped eating Fish and rice for the sake of Pizzas and Burgers).

Other successful entries by Afghan artists include a beaded snake in a glass jar; a pink rose whose stem is pierced by pins; and a wooden lampshade in the shape of Afghanistan and painted in the colours of the national flag. Mohammad Ismael Zadran, 33, was so excited when he heard the radio advertisement for the prize that he hired a taxi and packed it full of 200 pieces of art. From his small, conservative village in the north-eastern province of Khost – where he is the only artist – he made the eight-hour bumpy journey.

“Three of my wood sculptures were destroyed during the journey,” said Mr Zadran. “But it was a chance I had to take.” Contemporary art in Afghanistan is far removed from the world of contemporary artists such as Jeff Koons, Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin. It has roots in the period when the former Soviet Union occupied the country. “Contemporary art is difficult for most Afghans to understand,” said Timor Hakimyar, a former president of the Artists Union of Afghanistan.

“But it is a good thing to start, to encourage people to learn about the arts.” All art forms suffered heavily during the Afghan civil war and then during the Taleban takeover. The Taleban movement regarded most art as “haram” – forbidden in Islam – particularly work that showed any depiction of the human form. As part of the prize, the 10 nominees are participating in a two-week workshop that aims to explore the concepts of contemporary art. Local and international artists have been invited to speak to Afghan artists to help them develop new ideas. Afghanistan has been wracked by 20 years of war and there is currently an insurgency in many parts of the country. Organisers believe that contemporary art offers the Afghans a way of channelling their trauma and discussing topics that are still largely taboo in society. During one of the workshops, the artists were asked to buy items from the local market and make a piece of contemporary art.

One participant’s exhibit had twigs sticking out of a doorway, and the debris of a small two-person figurine, a statue of a dog, a smashed light bulb, a cigarette butt and vegetables strewn on the ground. He said it symbolised the scene of when his house was hit by a rocket in Kabul in the early 1990s. Organisers say that an exhibition of this new artwork will be held next month followed by an announcement of the first winner of the contemporary art prize.-SANA

In olden days Bengal was called “Bongo” or “Bongodesh”. Bengal is Geographically important place in South Asia. Presently Bengal is divided into two parts but the culture is same as it was. Bangladesh(East-Bengal) is now an independent nation and West-Bengal is a part of India. Indian part of Bengal is surrounded by Tripura, Orrisa, Assam. Majority of United Bengal speaks Bengali irrespective of their religion, cast or creed. Bengali of East-Bengal is somewhat different from West-Bengal. The two main rivers of Bengal are Ganga & Padma.

The exact origin of the word Bangla or Bengal is unknown, though it is believed to be derived from the Dravidian-speaking tribe Bang that settled in the area around the year 1000 BCE. The first Independent known ruler of Bengal was Shasank who ruled the state around 7th century. After that Senas, Palas ruled the state.

Subsequent Muslim Conquest helped spread Islam throughout the region. Bhaktiar Khilji, a Turkic general of the Slave Dynasty of Delhi Sultanate, defeated Lakshman Sen of the Sena dynasty and conquered large parts of Bengal. Consequently, the region was ruled by dynasties of Sultans and feudal lords under the Delhi Sultanate for the next few hundred years. Arround 1200 Ad it came under the Rule of Delhi sultanate and capita of Bengal was shifted to Dhaka from Kolkata. Around 1567 AD Murshid Kuli Khan Shifted his capital from Dhaka to Murshidabad and then started the Golden rule of Nawabs of Murshidabad.

The European Came in Bengal in Fifteenth Century. Dutch established their colony in Chinsurah. Portuguese in Sodpore, Islampur, Chattagram(Chittagong). French got chandannagore and British settled in Dhaka-Bikrampore, Narayanganj, Barishal, Noakhali, Patuakhali, Kolkata, Paraganas, Birbhum and started the most worst case in history called “Neel Chash”.

The first revolt against the British started in Bengal by Mangal Pandey. From here Bengalis started fighting against the Brirish including…..Bagha Jatin, Bidrohi Kabi Nazrul Islam, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Pulin Behari Das, Binoy Badal Dinesh, Khudiram, Sher-E-Bangla Fazlur Haque, Nawab Latif of Faridpur and many many others. Then in Muslim majority province of united India; Muslims started united and getting roots in Bengal thus Muslim League was established in Dhaka in 1906.

In spite of a last ditch effort to form a United Bengal, when India gained independence in 1947, Bengal was partitioned along religious lines. The western part went to India (and was named West Bengal) while the eastern part joined Pakistan as a province called East Bengal (later renamed East Pakistan, giving rise to Bangladesh in 1971). The circumstances of partition was bloody, with widespread religious riots in Bengal.

West Bengal, the western part of Bengal, became a state in India. In the 1960s and 1970s, severe power shortages, strikes and a violent Marxist-Naxalite movement damaged much of the state’s infrastructure, leading to a period of economic stagnation. The Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971 resulted in the influx of millions of refugees to West Bengal, causing significant strains on its infrastructure. West Bengal politics underwent a major change when the Left Front won the 1977 assembly election, defeating the incumbent Indian National Congress. The Left Front, led by CPI(M) has governed for the last three decades.The state’s economic recovery gathered momentum after economic reforms in India were introduced in the mid-1990s by the central government, aided by election of a new reformist Chief Minister in 2000.

Economy of Bengal is very good. Rice, Fish, potatoe, Jute, Tea(From Darjeeling) are very important crops. Fish forms a very important part of Bengal.

Culture Of Bengal:

The common Bengali language and culture binds the shared tradition of two parts of politically divided Bengal. Bengal has a long tradition in folk literature, evidenced by the Charyapada, Mangalkavya, Shreekrishna Kirtana, Maimansingha Gitika or Thakurmar Jhuli. Bengali literature in the medieval age was often either religious (e.g. Chandidas), or adaptations from other languages (e.g. Alaol). During the Bengal Renaissance of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Bengali literature was modernized through the works of authors such as Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, Rabindranath Tagore and Kazi Nazrul Islam.

The Baul tradition is a unique heritage of Bangla folk music.Other folk music forms include Gombhira, Bhatiali and Bhawaiya. Folk music in Bengal is often accompanied by the ektara, a one-stringed instrument. Other instruments include the dotara, dhol, flute, and tabla. The region also has an active heritage in North Indian classical music.

Bengal had also been the harbinger of modernism in Indian fine arts. Abanindranath Tagore, one of the important 18th century artist from Bengal is often referred to as the father of Indian modern art. He had established the first non-British art academy in India known as the Kalabhavan within the premises of Santiniketan. Santiniketan in course of time had produced many important Indian artists like Gaganendranath Tagore, Nandalal Bose, Jamini Roy, Benode Bihari Mukherjee and Ramkinkar Baij. In the post-independence era, Bengal had produced important artists like Somenath Hore, Meera Mukherjee and Ganesh Paine.

Rice and fish are traditional favorite foods, leading to a saying that in Bengali, mach ar bhaath bangali baanaay, that translates as “fish and rice make a Bengali”. Bengal’s vast repertoire of fish-based dishes includes Hilsa preparations, a favorite among Bengalis. Bengalis make distinctive sweetmeats from milk products, including Rôshogolla, Chômchôm, and several kinds of Pithe(sweet).

Bengali women commonly wear the shari and the salwar kameez, often distinctly designed according to local cultural customs. In urban areas, many women and men wear Western-style attire. Among men, European dressing has greater acceptance. Men also wear traditional costumes such as the panjabi with dhuti or pyjama, often on religious occasions. The lungi, a kind of long skirt, is widely worn by Bangladesh men.

The greatest religious festivals are the two Eids (Eid ul-Fitr and Eid ul-Adha) for the Muslims, and the autumnal Durga Puja for Hindus.Christmas (called Borodin (Great day) in Bangla), Buddha Purnima are other major religious festivals. Other festivities include Pohela Baishakh (the Bengali New Year), Basanta-Utsab, Nobanno, and Poush parbon (festival of Poush).

Bengali cinema are made both in Kolkata and Dhaka. The Kolkata film industry is older and particularly well known for its art films. Its long tradition of film making has produced acclaimed directors like Satyajit Ray, while contemporary directors include Buddhadev Dasgupta and Aparna Sen. Dhaka also has a vibrant commercial industry and more recently has been home to critically acclaimed directors like Tareque Masud. Mainstream Hindi films of Bollywood are also quite popular in West Bengal and Bangladesh. Around 200 dailies are published in Bangladesh, along with more than 1800 periodicals. West Bengal had 559 published newspapers in 2005, of which 430 were in Bangla.Cricket and football are popular sports in the Bengal region. Local games include sports such as Kho Kho and Kabaddi, the later being the national sport of Bangladesh. An Indo-Bangladesh Bangla Games has been organized among the athletes of the Bengali speaking areas of the two countries.

Temples & Mosques in Bengal:

1.Nakhoda Mosque: A great old Mosque of Kolkata. Beutiful Architecture
2. Tipu Sultan(Kolkata)
3.Ahsan Manzil(Dhaka)
4.Kali Mandir(Kolkata)
5.Dhakhineswar(Kolkata)
6.Dhakeshwari Kali (Kolkata)
7.PanchGhara Masjid(Kaliganj,Bangladesh)
8.Chatteshwari(Chittagong)
9. Tara Pith(Tarapith,Hooghly,WB and Jessore EB)

and lots of there……including thousand of Monanstry, Churches, Gurudwaras, Parsi Temples……. In one Word ……..Bengal is “Unity in Diversity”

And in the words of Tagore:

Amar shonar Bangla,
Ami tomae bhalobashi.
Chirodin tomar akash,
Tomar batash,
Amar prane bajae bashi
O ma,
Phagune tor amer bone
Ghrane pagol kore,
Mori hae, hae re,
O ma,
oghrane tor bhora khete
Ami ki dekhechhi modhur hashi.
Ki shobha, ki chhaea go,
Ki sneho, ki maea go,
Ki achol bichhaeechho
Bo?er mule,
Nodir kule kule!
Ma, tor mukher bani
Amar kane lage,
Shudhar moto,
Mori hae, hae re,
Ma, tor bodonkhani molin hole,
Ami nôeon jole bhashi.

(National Anthem of Bangladesh)

(References taken from Wikipedia; Ambarish Panday has edited the Bengal section of Wikipedia)