The lunch box

The classroom was getting restless in the last few minutes before the much-awaited lunch break. The teacher could feel the students shift in attention. She banged the duster twice on the desk to bring back the focus of the students to whatever she was saying. The students were immediately alerted only to hear the next lunch bell; the harbinger of their joy.


This was the usual scene every day during the fourth period of my school. We couldn’t have waited to open our lunch boxes, much less to see what other students have brought.


The lunch break used to commence as usual- with everyone opening their boxes and trying to eat what they can before going for a hunt to others’ tables. But that day was a bit unusual. The introvert Naveen was sitting idle with his tiffin box lay in front of him. We all had waited for him to open so that we could jump on it. He was one of those rare students who picked from other people. His innocence was often mistaken as his stupidity as is always the human nature to substitute any virtue with naiveté.


We were busy wondering why he wasn’t opening his box. It was then he grabbed it and made a move towards the door. He wanted to eat alone that day. There had to be something special, we thought. We began calling him from behind. He didn’t respond and continued walking. We started following him, he paced up. We realised he was avoiding us. There is something special, we were assured. We doubled our pace. Being not the fastest runner, he was finally outrun and caught.


He begged not to snatch his lunch. We were in no state to negotiate. He threatened to complain. We were in no mood to listen. One of us snatched his box and tried opening it. Naveen protested and tried getting his box back. In the strife, the box broke open, and the entire content fell out, resulting in no one getting anything. Naveen broke down in tears shouting and blaming us. His wail was loud enough to get teachers’ attention. Two of them came out running towards the commotion. They hurried towards the crying fourth standard boy. Learning on what happened, they took him inside the staff room. Before leaving, one of them gave an angry look. We knew we were up for some severe punishment.


But sir had something else in store for us. After the school got over, he took us to the nearby slum. He showed us the way children live there. They merely had anything to eat. And we waste food without thinking. We were all very silent. Coming back home only one thought haunted me. What if I had to live that way? Why can’t they live like me?


As a child, I was never able to answer these then. That day didn’t just make me feel how fortunate we were or that we shouldn’t waste food like that. It opened my eyes towards another India. I wanted to do something for them.


Often we take what we have for granted not realising how it affects others around us. We need to understand that this world is for everyone and everyone is liable to the same respect we think we deserve. It is my urge to everyone to understand, appreciate and respect what we have.


This incident inspired me in ways more than one. My story ‘The Bottle’ in my upcoming book is one such story dedicated to those marginalised children around the country.

The Bottola- an evening spent with literature and much more...

Being an independent self-published author, I had always wanted to meet and interact with people with an equal knack for storytelling and literature. They are not the authors you find in the bookstores or online portals; because they are the ones who write for themselves, for the sheer pleasure of writing, to answer their urge for story-telling.

My cousin Ushni Dasgupta reading her story

One such opportunity came in my way when I received an invitation to attend a ‘Bottola’ gathering in Faridabad, last weekend. It was hosted by my aunt, Dr. Mousumi Dasgupta, and my uncle, Mr. Shantanil Dasgupta A Bottola is a gathering of like-minded literature enthusiasts who meet regularly and discuss literature. They read their stories, poetries and anything they’ve written to an audience and experience and appreciate other people’s literature. I was invited as a guest along with my mother. She’d written her periodic short story pertaining to that theme of that gathering - ‘It was your promise, you’d write to me.’ There were people from varied profession from artists to travellers, from retired people to the ones having a 9-5 job, almost everyone who sought refuge in literature.

Bottola Story-telling session running full fledgedly. 

A section of the members present 

Another section of the attendeees

The host of the evening Dr. Mousumi Dasgupta with Ushni and the moderator for the evening-Mr. Dipak Mukhopadhyay

It was my opportunity to express myself about my book- “Laments and Virtues”, also a book giveaway and book signing followed. I received an overwhelming response and blessings from the members, all of whom were much elder and much-experienced people when it came to writing.

Me signing the copies of Laments and Virtues. In the chair- Mr Kishore, a senior Bottola member

This Bottola, is remarkable in more than one ways for it witnesses and sustains Bengali while miles away from Bengal. This shows the attachment of people towards their mother-tongue and the enthusiasm to recreate the same passion in home away from home.

Often, in the modern urban lives, the pursuit of our career (job or studies) makes us leave our home and make living in an alien land far away from our culture. I was born in Howrah (West Bengal), but had my childhood in Chowduar, Cuttack (Orissa), Dehri-on-son (Bihar) and Bardhhaman (West Bengal), Kakinada (Seemandhra) and Haldia (West Bengal) before joining college in Jadavpur University. While my nomadic childhood offered me the various experiences and understanding of different cultures, which wouldn’t have been possible if I were brought up in one place, it also kept me away from my own culture. There was one point where I had difficulty understanding the quirks and sarcasm in my own language.

But these people I met here in Bottola had a similar life. They were away from their home and culture, yet they took time every day from their busy schedule to nurture and relish their language and come together once a month to exchange their views and words.

That evening left me both baffled and inspired. I felt a sudden tinge in myself that I have many stories in me trying to come out. There was an imminent urge to write, feel and enjoy. More than anything I felt at home after a long time.

I take this opportunity to thank every member of Bottola for inviting me and giving me an evening to remember for a long time to come.

The Selection of our new Class Monitor.

Every year at the beginning of each academic year, our class teacher appoints one of us to be the ‘class monitor’. His/her job is to mind the class in absence of any teacher, collect all the notebooks for the teacher and accompany her with the lot to the staffroom. In other words, he was the ‘teacher ka chamcha’. The monitor was who enjoyed a special status in the eyes of his classmates. And his friends enjoyed a special status of never getting punished.

It happens in every school, and in everywhere the procedure is more or less the same. One of the few toppers is selected from the batch of scores of students and given the honourable position of the ‘class monitor’. Every probable leader- everyone from the last year’s top rankers began to ally and tried to be in the good books of the teachers. And the entire class tried to be in their good books.

I still remember the time we were in our fifth standard. That was our first day. We were fresh with enthusiasm and optimism. The smell of new books was still lingering and could be felt every time we opened our bags. Like every time, our new class teacher entered. While many of us had known her previously, a handful of newcomers didn’t. She was known for her anger and strictness. With her commanding voice, she introduced herself. Then she asked us to introduce ourselves. One by one, right from the first bench, each of us stood up and said our names and one line about us. The last benchers though had to repeat their words for their voices were inaudible. The backbenchers had lost their voices on learning about their new class-teacher.

After the introductory session, it was time for declaring the class monitor. Every expectant eye looked at our teacher. The first benchers could well be predicted have their fingers crossed.

Then she called out the name of a student who was never bothered except during attendance call and declared him to be the Class Monitor. At her announce, even her prestige couldn’t prevent the classroom from the imminent commotion that followed. How could a non-topper be given that respect? Hardly were any of the back-benchers or timid non-participants ever noticed, except a few talented ones who were only acknowledged during the annual Sports Day or School Fest. The class was becoming unruly.                         

The teacher banged the duster twice to bring back order in the class. Everyone returned to an uncomfortable silence. However, no one dared question her authority. Our desire to be answered remained unquenched even to this day. The only thing significant on that event was the realisation that there were students beyond the regular good scorers and active participants in the classroom and that they had equal chances and opportunities like the rest of them.

Why sometimes we must let it be with one?

Recently, I have read somewhere about a probable sequel of Christopher Nolan's 'Inception' and somewhere I was left feeling uneasy about it. Unable to comprehend it back then, I decided to work it out myself.


To begin with, it's evident that most, if not all, sequels disappoint. The reason being far too many. Below is the list of reasons I feel sequels disappoint:-

1) The package goes missing:-

The first of any book/movie sets up some universe adds characters and plots that at times serve the dual purpose of entertaining and teaching a life lesson. It serves as an entire package. Sometimes while doing the sequels, this entire package gets lost in the plot. Sometimes characters don't live up to the expectations, sometimes the moral is weakly delivered or sometimes the plot itself dilutes (e.g.  Rock on 2 by Shujaat Saudagar).

2) Easy formulae do not work:-

Most of the plot lines, in case where the story isn't continued in the sequels, work on the same formula, like in case of any Jack Reacher stories, the protagonist always finds himself amidst a plot of some conspiracy that can only be solved by him. Sometimes, these formulae work in the beginning for they promise novelty, but this gets used and overused the readers don't feel monotonous and regressive. As a result, the sequel fails e.g. Inferno by Ron Howard..

3) No one likes to be forced:-

At times, we feel that the purpose isn't strong enough and the plot feels kind of 'Forced' into the sequel to match with its predecessor. The readers or any movie goer, reads or watches for entertainment (primarily) and out of one free will. Now what if one is forced to watch something. Surely one'll end up hating it. For the stories can be as out of the world as they want, for as long as the 'suspension of disbelief' isn't forced, it will always be appreciated. (like- Hangover 2 by Todd Phillips)

Though some exceptions to watch out for:-

When most of the sequels fail to deliver, there are some sequels who outperform their predecessors as enlisted below:-

1) Godfather II by Francis Ford Coppola- The sequel to the classic Gangster family movie is still considered by and large the best sequel ever made.

2) The Dark Knight by Christopher Nolan- Christopher Nolan's only story that ever got made into a franchise was his batman trilogy. No one can ever forget Heath Ledger's last on screen performance which left the audience loving the antagonist to the protagonist.

3) The Empire Strikes Back Irvin Kershner- The fans of the Star Wars' franchise would unanimously agree that this is so far the best movie in the series.

4) The two towers (LOTR 2) by Peter Jackson- This adaptation of the Tolkein's novel is said to have bettered its prequel.

5) Home Alone 2 by Chris Colombus- A young boy lost in New York. The makers decision to stick with the previous formula of a left alone boy and yet come up with a different background was appreciated as well as enjoyed by the audience.


The list is really long and exhaustive. I would love if the list is furthered by the readers. Thanks.

So, as it turns out while most of them disapoint, not everyone deserves our frown. So if there is at all any chance of Inception having a sequel let's keep our finger's cross and hope it falls into the latter category.