Monday, November 15, 2010

KANCHENJUNGA

KANCHANJANGHA!!!!!! Well does this name reverberate any memory? No, I am not talking about Satyajit Ray’s film. Rather it is about the feeling that is generated by Kanchanjangha that compelled the maestro to create the masterpiece, the same feeling that every single human being is pierced through when faced with nature’s bounty.

I visited Darjeeling with my hubby and my son in 2004 October. It was my first visit to the place and from the Toy train to the nil guys at the local zoo, everything fascinated me, when my husband was in a repenting mode. He was trying hard to relate with a place that he had seen in his childhood (his 2nd visit) which is now under the threshold of commercialization, concrete structure obstructing nature’s beauty. Hotels and houses built on the slope speak volume of its advanced architecture, but nevertheless for the tourists they mar the essence of the hill station.

But it is not Darjeeling that I wish to tell you about as I am sure most of you have visited the place. It is a strange incident that happened on the last day of our trip that still replays on my mind that I want to share with you all.

On our last day we were supposed to go to tiger hills (like all true Bengalis ...ahem..) to have a glimpse of Kanchanjangha at sunrise. It is known as a heavenly sight and very few tourists would miss it. But after visiting the local tourist office, we were in a dilemma, cause we were informed that we had to leave our hotel at 3 o clock in the morning in that biting cold (oct).As my son was very small and he was not keeping well my husband decided against it. In my utter dismay I realized that an opportunity of a life time was slipping away but as a good mother and a wife I kept mum and ushered my desire under the carpet. But my mind yarn to see it cause , I knew I would not get the chance to visit the place again in near future. But god had some designs for me the next day.

Next day we got up very early in the morning as that was the last day of our trip and by mid-day we would leave for Mirik, we went out to the mall. My son was very keen to ride pony and I had to accompany him as he needed to confide his views about that place with someone, and that someone could not be anyone but me. We were on two ponies and two Nepalese pulled our ponies down the road. It was serenely beautiful, away from the bustle of the mall, I could hear the trotting of the ponies and my son’s constant chattering. I was too busy adjusting myself on the uncomfortable saddle. Suddenly one of the Nepalese pointed up at the sky mumbling something, I could only hear a hissing sound, something that comes out when you are lost for words. I asked him,”what?” He said “Yo dekho memshab, Kanchanjangha”. It took sometime to register that he was pointing at the sky up above. “he shouted again”Kanchanjangha …yo …udhar”. At first I could not see anything as I was staring straight at eye level, but then my eyes caught something far far above us. In fact I had to tilt my head back, raised my chin to look up at the sky,
“Oh! My god!!!!! I yelled at my son to look at the spectacular view then fell speechless, nothing came out from my moving lips. Spellbound, three of us kept staring at the white mystic, a range of snow capped mountain, bathing in morning sun. The rays had spread over something like we find in a child’s drawing book when he draws a sun, then someone poured molten gold on the peaks. That day god was the child and the sky was his canvas, where he painted in his own free will, and what a creation it was!!!! I felt so small, so very small in front of the nature. Even the ponies forgot to ring the bells, and as we gazed at that magnificent sight my son kept yelling”I can’t see …can’t see “ as he couldn’t tilt his head enough to savor the beauty. I managed to raise a lifeless finger at the sky and he stopped shouting..and snapped back ” It’s a black mountain …full of forests…chhii!!!!!” that single sentence broke my reverie, I looked at him in disbelief, saw him staring at some pang of black cloud within his visible range. But as he settled his gaze happily on the cloud taking it granted for Kanchanjangha, I preferred to turn my attention again to savor the moment only to realize, I was not carrying my cam. The camera was with my husband who was standing at the mall, just two minutes walk from there, blissfully unaware of what he was missing, counting his money how much he saved for not visiting Tiger Hills. I had no patience and no faith on the half fed ponies that they could carry me faster than my feet could. So I got down and almost ran towards the mall. Seeing him standing at the mall, eating bhutta (corn) raised my ire. I grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards the spot snatching the cam from him, trying to explain something which he could not make head or tail of. He thought I was robbed off my money, appeared very concerned almost rolling his sleeves in anticipation to hit the invisible imposter, after all “Kolkata ka dada” As we reached there, I found my son’s black cloud spread all over the sky and even a ray wasn’t visible.

Later we learnt from the group who had gone to visit Tiger Hills well equipped with cam and with high hopes to have a glimpse of the maestros work, but to no avail. It was cloudy morning and Kanchnajangha had refused to remove its veil.

A shiver ran through me, my lips curved into a smile I realized along with the two Nepalese, I was god’s chosen one that day (well …high hopes…). For me it was a tryst with my destiny. My yarning to see god’s heavenly abode made him bow down to my wish (my perception) making the whole experience a spiritual one.

I still remember the momo and thuppa at the Tibetan restaurant, our morning breakfast at Cavenders, Pastries from Grindlays, the occasional rain…seeing raining below from above, the cloud moving , the Ghoom Monastery, my prayers that changed a life (so …I would like to believe )..The toy train…the long umbrellas and beautiful Nepali girls selling everything from toothpaste to safety pin with their charming smile.

But till today the Nepalese’s voice echo in my ears “Memshab….aaj khana nahi khana….log paisa kharcha karke tiger hills jatey hai….apne yehi se dekh liye…aap bahut lucky hai!!” Indeed I was lucky…I lived two decades of my life in those two minutes!!!!!!

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  • Francoise Callard likes this.
    • Francoise Callard
      J'ai lut ton article.Tu as vécu une belle expèrience.Ce sont des choses qu'on oublie jamais...
      En général,Les gens ne savent pas regarder la vraie vie.Ils ne savent pas apprécier la beauté de la nature,les fleurs,les arbres,le chant des oise...See More
      March 11 at 11:44pm ·
    • Tanusree Choudhuri merci Franky ....tu as dû beaucoup traduiser pour mon article...i j'espere que tu as apprécié
      March 14 at 10:29pm ·
    • Francoise Callard Bonsoir Ruma.Oui j'ai beaucoup apprécié ton article.J'espère que tu as réussi à tout comprendre ma réponse.Bisous à +
      March 15 at 12:18am ·
    • Vinita Anand seedhaa seedhaa bolo ..boootiooolll
      March 15 at 11:51am ·
    • Tanusree Choudhuri oyeh my article went international
      March 15 at 9:45pm ·
    • Indrani Ray Just beautiful...proud to b a friend of a writer ..man!!! ur writtting literally made me imagine the beauty and reminded me my memories of such beauty while in transit to Kedarnath 30 yrs back.Keep writting.....
      June 14 at 7:43pm ·
    • Tanusree Choudhuri thanks...muwah...some one made me realise that I could write....now the inspiration is gone....nowadays i write like the school essays that never got me more than 3 outta 10..may be i will get back to that again....
      June 14 at 9:12pm ·

Is It New Age Banking????????????

More hospitality less banking!!!!

Have you ever read Jerom K. Jerom's " Uncle Podger" ? This morning I felt the same way as he did when I walked through HSBC bank counters.

The employees of the bank were so embarrassingly polite when I walked through the door. I was quite confident about what to do. I went to the right counter, picked up the right deposit slip, stood in the right queue. Suddenly a handsome young man came from behind and bowed down from his waist almost like the sumo wrestlers do before punching their opponent . Was I expected to do the same? Well I guess they spare the ladies from the punches. and have better ways of killing them , may be by being extra polite!!! In a very sugary voice he asked me " May I help you mam' ? " I wanted to say "no!" I know what to do and I know how to do it exactly. But his undevided attention made me waver and I found myself saying in a dry voice " I want to deposit the cheque". He asked me if I have an account and and some relevent detalis which sounded irrelevent to my ears. He made me write the account number one more time, and he had a smile on his face as I fumbled and ultimately took help of the cheque book to write the account number. Do they expect their customers to be Shakuntala Devi that they would mug up 10 digit long account number? After I passed the verification round they must have found me qualified to have their undevided attention.There was no way out after that. He showed me to the sofa and told me to wait and vanished with my cheque god knows where! I failed to understand when so many customers standing in the queue depositing their own cash or cheque why I was dished out special attention! Perhaps I was the only woman in the early hours and they were practising their Customer Care Lessons for the day. Or maybe it was because they dont get to see a 5 ft 8 inches tall bespectacled strange woman everyday who almost felt like an ET in a highly commercialized bank among the embarrassingly attentive employees? I was asked to have coffee two times , and one time to have " a cup of tea at least mam'" and when I refused to give in under their pressure , I was served immediately with a glass of water . I must have been licking my lips to keep them from getting dry. Once they found out I was the wife of some " Niladri Choudhuri Sir " he almost asked me indignently why I kept him in the dark about my identity as if I was A billionaire's wife or the wife of a C grade superstar of a D grade movie. I suddenly became "Tanusree Choudhuri Madam" and they even enquired about my proficiency in french, asked me how my classes were running. I was stumped by their general knowledge and I was too scared to reply and hope to look for a choice or I thought to ask for a help line ( excellnt/ good/ fairly good/bad) " THEY DO NOT LET YOU BE YOURSELF , THEIR CUSTOMER CARE FUNDAS ARE MORE IMPORTANT AND THEY HAVE TO PRACTISE IT ON EVERY POSSIBLE STRANGER. " You have to toe their lines afterall...they know what is good for you ...shhhh dont argue".

After all the formalities and hospitality bestowed on us, when I left the bank and walked out through the exit , AAHHHHH I felt human again, what a relief!!!! As the saying goes " Too much love and attention suffocates you". In their eagerness to help me , they actually made me appear like a fool and down right stupid. NOW SHOULD THE NEW AGE MANAGEMENT GURUS COME UP WITH A BETTER SOLUTION FOR CUSTOMER HANDLING????

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    • Srishti Dube congratulations mam for your "being overly-helped" bank experience.
      September 18 at 5:12pm · · 1 person
    • Amitabh Kumar Singh Well written piece,tanu.I feel tht its lots better to be 'overly-helped' and cared for than stand in a serpentine queue which fails to move. This is new age banking isnt it? If u still luv to queue,try the SBI near my home....lol
      September 18 at 6:49pm · · 1 person
    • Tanusree Choudhuri hehe ..SBI has a queue thats why.....how many customers dare to enter such banks i wonder...if they are lacking the queues there must be reasons
      September 18 at 6:52pm ·
    • Tanusree Choudhuri thanks srishti....wish i cud have had the same kind of help at home wid my chores
      September 18 at 6:54pm · · 1 person
    • Manashi Banerjee Sanyal lucky you Di ........... some people have all the attention ;)
      September 20 at 10:43am · · 1 person
    • Rita Ghosh what an experience!!!!
      September 20 at 10:04pm ·
    • Tanusree Choudhuri hehe..yap di
      September 21 at 12:09am ·
    • Anup Payyanadan our good old SBI with all their poor service and babu nature of employees is much better if you really come to know the new generation banks..
      September 21 at 9:29pm · · 1 person
    • James M Booth Would it be more efficient, I wonder, for this young man to be tending a teller's window and moving a line along ? Seems to me a line is being held up more by his "singular attention". What concerns me more is that HSBC is not an Indian bank, is it ?
      September 26 at 9:00pm · · 1 person
    • Tanusree Choudhuri no..it isn't James...i guess they make everyone feel special....there were very few that day...may be thats why...what appeared to me a pain may be their marketing policy..well perception!!!
      September 27 at 12:38am ·