Friday, 14 January 2011

THE CLARION CALL, a poem by Debojyoti Sinha

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Dils Debojyoti Sinha, Mumbai

The boat of the Bishnupriyas got afloat again
In the sea of time, bisecting the waves of misery.
Come on, ride quickly.
Do not get afraid of the storm of clan discriminations among us.
Come on, ride quickly by chanting the name of Lord Bishnu.

Tanubabu and Kirtibabu are the flags
And are flying high defying the storm.
Do not get afraid , come on, ride quickly
The boat is afloat negotiating the waves.

Mahendrababu is the sailor, Krishnadas the helmsman
Dhirachandra, Nila Mukharjee are with them to assist,
Rudrababu is the shed, Krishnakumar the pushing pole,
Falguni, Babuchand B.L. are the oarsmen.
The boat is afloat braving the waves
Do not get afraid, come on , ride quickly

Jadab master is the first passenger from the Madai's
Nadia from Kanchanbari, a lot from Halhali
Though some villages are curiously away
Causing, for all, a painful concern.

To board in the boat from the shore
The linking plank, made of Gokul's heart, is there.
The light and the heavy can walk through easily
And, to board in and off, keep it safe with care.

The boat of the Bishnupriyas got afloat again
In the sea of time, bisecting the waves of misery
Come on, ride quickly by chanting the name of Lord Bishnu.

(Based on Gokulananda Gitiswami's Kal Sagare Bahil Baro........)

Published in " SMARANIKA 2010": a souvenir published on the occasion of 114th Birth anniversary of Gokulananda Gitiswami on 21st November'10 at Shilpagram ,Guwahati, Assam.

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

DILS vs DILS

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Dils Debojyoti Sinha,Mumbai

With reference to bio-data etc of Sri L.K.Sinha I would like to say a few more lines. Regarding his mother’s name he contested that it is 'Juthi'  and not ‘Jyoti’ and it derived from the Sanskrit word ‘Juthi’ which means jasmine. In this context I would like to say that ‘Juthi’ is a typical Bengali word and its equivalent in Sanskrit would be ‘Yuthi’. In our pronunciation ‘th’ is very prominent as in ‘methi’,’mathi’,’prithibi,’rathi-maharathi’, ‘rathindra’ etc.It is so prominent that sometimes we impose it on ‘dh’ too as in Radha>Ratha, Radhamohan>Rathamohan etc. So, there is no chance of pronouncing ‘Juthi’ as ‘Juti’ specially, as the name of a person. The quoted Bengali (Brajabuli) lines ‘Jadaba baliya gathaihe juthi, Madhaba baliya gathe Malati’ inspired him to glorify her name as an afterthought, after her death, in the line of Pt Nilamadhab with Malati (as is available in the blog)and one of his cousins’ Krishnagopal with Radharani. This is an illusion and nothing but an unethical act of a day-dreamer. I reiterate that her name was ‘Jyoti’(commonly pronounced as ‘Juti’) and I would be glad enough to furnish documentary evidences if he contradicts further.

In the eighties and nineties a cluster of writers, namely, Sanatan Misra,Kumari Debala Mukherji (as in ‘Agastya’),Kumar Barshneya,Brihannala Singha and Dils Malini Debi wrote in various magazines. Can I deny them and the names as my pen names simply because they are no longer in use now? Did the great poet R. N.Tagore denied his pen name ‘Bhanu Singha’ in his later part of life simply because it was not in use then ?

It is cleared from his statement that he did not receive the Mahendra Memorial Foundation Award. The  award was given to Prof. Manoranjan Sinha. With all connotations and denotations what he received is a subsidiary one and a consolation prize in nature. Who says that a consolation prize cannot carry a citation, a chadar and some prize money? I had the privilege to look into that citation which was unsigned. I requested him to get that signed by Foundation authority. If not yet done that citation is worth nothing, even the question of a consolation prize is a far cry.

Why is he silent about the ‘Gift of Honour’ from DILS? Is it simply an oblivion or a fiendish feign of  forgetfulness? Is he scary of the probable question as to how a member of the DILS awarded by the same association? He need not worry for that. In such a situation I shall protect him by informing that he is not a member of the association, a deserter by default since or around 1986. Instead of showing vindictive attitude we honoured him rather as we do not mix personal relations with social contributions. When he says one should not play with the sentiments of the writers while showing honours, it is also equally notable that the prize or award winners should not play with the sentiments of the award-arrangers or prize-providers.

What does he mean by a bio-data on experimental basis meant for Sri Sushil Sinha of Bangladesh? A bio-data should be common for all. Moreover, Sri Sushil Sinha is not a Tom, Dick and Harry. He is a socio-
literary activist of some superlative degree and is regarded as one of the unofficial ambassadors to India so far as our community is concerned. What prompted him to misguide Sri Sushil Sinha by such a fabricated bio-data? He denied that he is an expert and claimed that he is a learner. Is it a sincere assessment about his self? If so, being a learner, why is he in the Driver’s seat of the Forum? Why is he submitting ‘papers’ to this and that seminar which is the exclusive prerogative of the learned and experts? May be this is humbleness but humble people are honest and grateful who never fabricate things in the mad pursuit of name and fame.

Whatever discussed till now is just a tip of the iceberg. Thus, I exhort Sri L.K.Sinha to be sincere and careful in which that ‘Bokka’ does not overpower him as this term not only carries simplicity and meekness it carries a chunk of foolishness too.

At last, I wish this versatile personality, as depicted, mental peace, prosperity and success, nonetheless.

Friday, 7 January 2011

ABILAC Assam to come up with Bishnupriya Manipuri Dictionary

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Guwahati, Jan. 6: The collective dream of linguists of various indigenous communities of Assam is about to come true.

Anundoram Borooah Institute of Language, Art and Culture, Assam — a research institution set up by the state government — is all set to publish dictionaries in languages of different indigenous communities of the state.

The institute has selected languages of six prominent indigenous communities of the state for the exercise in a bid to enrich their language and literature. The selected languages are Bodo, Karbi, Mising, Dimasa, Tiwa and Rabha.

To publish the dictionaries, the institution has taken help of the sahitya sabhas (literary bodies) of these linguistic communities. Accordingly, the sabhas have selected the right persons to compile words for the dictionaries.

“The dictionary in Rabha language will be published shortly. We have completed almost 90 per cent work,” said Dilip Kumar Kalita, director of the institute. He said that the Rabha Sahitya Sabha has helped them to compile the dictionary.

As a part of the project, the institute had already published Mising Gompir Kumsung — a dictionary of Mising language — in April this year. The 687-page dictionary, edited by scholar Tabu Taid, has covered almost all the words available in Mising language.

Kalita said that all these dictionaries would be in three languages.

For convenience of readers, the meaning of each word has also been given in Assamese and English.

Kalita added that considering the concentration of the Bishnupriya Manipuri population in the state, the institute would also publish a similar tri-lingual dictionary in Bishnupriya Manipuri language.

“The progress on the dictionary of Bishnupriya Manipuri language is not much. But we will publish it as soon as possible,” Kalita added.

The institute, set up in 1989 in North Guwahati, has so far published 46 books on different languages, literature and culture of the state.

Some of the books published by the institute are The Rabhas, The Hill Lalungs, Aspects of North East Languages, Folkloric Foragings in India’s Northeast and The Verbals of Assamese and Bengali.

Besides, they have also translated some world classics in Assamese.

Kalita said around 40 per cent works have been completed for the dictionaries on Karbi, Bodo and Dimasa languages.

“We have got full support from each of these indigenous communities. They are very happy to know that we are going to publish a dictionary in their languages,” Kalita said. He added that although some of the languages of the indigenous communities have their own dictionaries, they are not as voluminous as the proposed dictionaries of the institute.

Moreover, the institute will publish another monolingual dictionary in Assamese. Kalita said that the dictionary would include all words found in all Assamese dictionaries published till today. “Besides, an additional 40,000 words, which are not found in other dictionaries, will be included,” Kalita said. He added that all Assamese words that have been coined till 1995 would get a place in the dictionary.

An Unfulfilled Wish

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Of an unfulfilled wish to pay tribute to a teacher with a goal
(Courtesy: The Sentinel)

By Ramlal Sinha

To me, my first love — soccer — is much more than a game. Right from my childhood when heavy shower and scorching sun had little difference in me while playing football, I had the habit of thinking soccer, dreaming soccer and planning soccer. In fact, it was soccer that I performed with more attention than anything else in my life. While having meal, I have the habit of thinking many things that have nothing to do with my diet. So also in reading, and for this I am paying a heavy price even today. On the contrary, I don’t remember of thinking anything else other than football while playing a match. Even then, I would like to fall short of making any statements like “soccer is my religion or next to my religion” or anything else of that sort. Maybe, this is one of the reasons why I failed to translate my first love into my profession. After entering my professional life, I have been only an occasional soccer player, playing about three to four matches a year. To be precise, at this age, I can only play events like the inter-media football tournament that is organized yearly by the Sports Journalists’ Association of Assam as I get players of ages between 18 years and 55 years in this tourney.

I had gone to Silchar in August 2006 in connection with the holding of the Kapaklei-Tanu Sahitya Sanmelan — a congregation of litterateurs that myself and my siblings hold every year in memory of our parents. On my arrival at Kachudharam, my native place on the outskirts of Silchar town, soccer fever griped me when I came to know that the Harekrishna Mukherjee Memorial Football Tournament was going on at that time. Late Harekrishna Mukherjee was my teacher and a guide for me and many of my senior and junior colleagues in various aspects of social life. Besides being one of the founder teachers of Chincoorie Bagan High School, which he led from the front as the headmaster later on, late Mukherjee was the president of the Assam State Committee of the Nikhil Bishnupriya Manipuri Mahasabha. Besides being the darling of the students, he was a devoted social worker, a poet, an orator of repute and a gentleman true to the sense. He was fondly called by his students as Bhrigumoni sir or Bhrigu sir.

I went to Chincoorie Bagan Playground with the players of Prativa Sangha of Kachudharam for which I had played many matches in my soccer career. When I saw ‘evergreen’ Motorda attired in a black short and a black T-shirt running along one of the lines with a red flag in his hand, I took a trip down memory lane. I felt as if I was in my teens. Ageing Motorda is a football coach, a sports organizer and darling of the teens, especially for his ‘defiance’ to his age, both physically and mentally. Myself and many of my fellow players were trained under him. The first big rural tournament that we played is the Krishna Kanta Memorial Running Tournament that Motorda and his siblings organize every year in memory of their departed father.

Slowly, my mind started to foster a wish that couldn’t be fulfilled at any rate at that situation. Since the playground where I was a spectator on that day is the one in which I had groomed as a soccer player, my mind got impregnated with the wish of paying tribute to my beloved teacher — late Harekrishna Mukherjee — with a hard-fought goal in the tournament that was under way in his memory.

I bothered the least to keep records of my ‘career scorecard’ in soccer. Be that as it may, my feeling on that day was such that — had the ‘dream goal’ which I wished to score as tribute to my teacher been netted, that would have certainly outweighed all the goals that I had scored in my life.

Most of the players playing for Prativa Sangha on that day were my nephews who are not less than 22 years junior to me. I was literally in the catch-22 situation. Not being a down-to-earth man, my mind was almost ready to vie for the ball on the slippy green ground at that moment but I fell short of undertaking that sort of ‘misadventure’ as I didn’t get the mandatory nod from my body. After the breather, when one of the club members asked me whether I was in a position to play the match for the club, my response to the question was not in consonance with my mind. My reply was a passive no. Despite my fervent wish to pay tribute to Harekrishna Mukherjee Sir with a goal, I refused to play the match because I was aware of the reality that in my late 40s I would find the players of that tournament simply too hot for me. This apart, I was apprehensive of the fact that my ‘misadventure’ might cost my club dearly. I know how painful a defeat in a match exactly is. My club came out winner 1-0, but the joy of the victory of my club seemed to be mysteriously missing in me. As if the pain of not being able to pay my last respect — tribute — to my teacher with a goal robbed me of the joy of the victory. However, I am sure that I would have been pained even more hadn’t my club made it to the semifinal in that tourney on that day. The win for Prativa Sangha on that day was at least a solace for me amid the agony of my unfulfilled wish.

On my way back home along with the players of Prativa Sangha, I came to know that a meeting was slated to be held at 8 pm on that day in the community mandap of Kachudharam. I was an invitee to the meet, the agenda of which was fund raising for the tournament and drawing a strategy for the playing eleven.

The meeting began with Prativa Sangha president Rasamay Sinha, a devoted member of the Nikhil Bishnupriya Manipuri Mahasabha, in the chair. Some of my senior former players, sports-loving elders of the village and some players of the team were at the meeting. One of my former senior players asked me whether I would be able to play in that tourney for the club. Though my response to the question was a guarded no, that very question revived my wish to pay tribute to Harekrishna Sir with a goal yet again. The irony is that when I was at the playground at the end of the match on that very day, I could come to the conclusion that my ‘seemingly impossible wish’ to pay tribute to my teacher was dead as dodo at least in that tournament in that year (Harekrishna Memorial Football Tournament is a running event).

Indecisive that I was on the matter of taking part in the semifinal match, I couldn’t concentrate on the agenda of the meeting. I hurried back home after the meeting as I had a jam-packed schedule the very next day in connection with the Kapaklei-Tanu Sahitya Sanmelan. The next morning, I went out with the invitation letters of the sahitya sanmelan talking my first cousin Champalal Sinha, a poet of repute, along with me.

We were very tired as we had to serve the letters to litterateurs who are sparsely distributed in areas like Vivekananda Road, Rangirkhari and Ashram Road in Silchar town, and Bhakatpur, Singari, Kalinjar, Noyagram, Chincoorie, Kachudharam etc on the outskirts of Silchar.

On our way back home, we were literally racing against time to get the semifinal match before it was started. When we reached Chincoorie Bagan High School, my cousin went home to bath and take meal, but I went straight to the playground by walking at least two kilometres more. When I reached the field, it was full of spectators and I was not getting a suitable place to stand. At last, I rushed to the right side of the gallery that was occupied mostly by spectators from the fair sex, and found all those who were considered think-tank of the Prativa Sangha team. Veteran soccer player Captain (Retd) Kunja Mohan Sinha, whom I fondly call as Bathada, was shouting at the Prativa Sangha players for their on-field mistakes. Another former player who was active outside the field in drawing strategy for the team was Rajendra Sinha (Manua). A little before the breather, the rival team, a club from Chadrapur near Silchar town, scored a goal, and that was enough to send seemingly key strategy maker of the Prativa Sangha team, Manua, to a tizzy. Soon he started to put pressure on Bothada to make some changes of the players. On repeated pleas from Manua, Bothada gave the nod at last. The first half of the match was barren for Prativa Sangha.

What I observed in the first half of the match on that day was that a bit aged yet the most potent player of Prativa Sangha of the day was Pranab Sinha. He was, however, not properly fed with the ball by those who were assigned for the job. Since most of the players of the club were hired ones from a particular locality, they had an on-field lobby among them for ground coordination. The regular players of the club like Prabal Sinha (Multhum) and Pranab Sinha were hardly fed with the ball by the lobby.

In the second half of the match, Pranab did make an attempt with a powerful right footer, but the rival keeper could fist the ball by taking a desperate drive. A ray of hope made a quick flash in me, and I started to shout at the players of my club to keep Pranab regularly fed with the ball. The hired players’ act of restricting the ground coordination almost among themselves deprived Pranab of more chances, and as such the much-screamed-about leveller remained elusive for Prativa Sangha. It was a twin defeat for me— the exit of Prativa Sangha from the tourney and my failure to pay tribute to late Harekrishna Sir in the very way I wished.

In the final the following Sunday, the club from Chandrapur came out winner by beating a club from Dudhpatil 2-1. Unlike the semifinal encounter between Prativa Sangha and the club from Chandrapur when I was restless for the much-needed leveller, I enjoyed the final at ease as I had little to worry for the defeat of any of the two teams though I was slightly inclined towards the Dudhpatil side on the ground that the club did not field more hired players the way their rival club did.

Then followed the prize-giving ceremony that made me recall ‘orator Harekrishna Sir’ yet again when Samir Sinha, a microphone-friendly youth of Chincoorie, delivered a speech. I apologized to Harekrishna Sir for not being able to pay him tribute with a goal in the tournament that was organized to honour him. I was, however, conscious enough to limit my apology only for that day as my wish to pay tribute to my departed Sir with a goal proudly refuses to die down even today.

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

DILS Lakshmindra Sinha bares his heart

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By DILS Lakshmindra Sinha

Regarding the topic “The Man Dils Lakshmindra Sinha” I have to say something which is given below. 

Thanks to Dils Debojyoti Sinha, for taking much interest on my works and activities. I know him personally as a learned and genius person. But he seems to be over conscious to pass his comment, contracting me, on the spelling of the name of my mother, “Juthi” and suggested the spelling to be “Jyoti”. In our tongue the two words are pronounced as “Juti”. But there is a difference in meaning – “juthi’ (in Sanskrit) is a flower of sweet fragrance (Jasmine), whereas ‘jyoti’ means light. In our Vaisnaba literature especially in Rasaleela songs and Basak songs Juthi is associated with Jadav ( as in the line “jadaba buliya juthi githia…” or “madhaba baliya gathe malati, jadaba baliya gathaye juthi” etc). It was an accident that my father, late Jadav Sinha married Juthi Devi (Sinha)( my mother) like one of my cousin Late Krishna Gopal married Late Radharani (sister-in-law).

Thanks to him again to bring into my memory other pen names and nick name etc., which are not in use for a long period. The bio-data, which I prepared on request, is meant for Mr. Sushil Sinha of Bangladesh. Mrs Anita found it suitable to paste in the newly designed Website “Bishnupriya Manipuri Writers Forum” as an experimental basis. The Website is going to be launched on 23rd instant.

In his writing, Mr. DJ Sinha highlighted me as an expert in many languages. To me it is an exaggeration. I don’t claim myself as an expert. I am simply a learner.

Regarding the Mahendra Memorial Foundation award he has further mentioned that “the Foundation award was presented to Prof. Monoranjan Sinha and a consolation prize to him( L.K.Sinha).” It is not correct and it may mislead the viewers/readers. It was an award of course (although I feel myself not worthy to receive such award or prize and I am not writing with the purpose to receive any prize out of writing). The citation was given as a “Manpatra” and not a Prize. The citation starts with the words – “The foundation feels honoured to confer a special award consisting of Rs. 3000.00 along with a chadar to Dils Lakshmindra Singha…..”. I did not join in any competition to have a prize organized by the Foundation so that they would offer me a consolation prize for my failure to have a main prize ( first, second or third etc) showing my excellence in the competition. However, there is a pain which I always feel in my heart that the organizers clearly mentioned to confer a Special literary Award’ in their invitation card (It is still in my memory that it was a simple unsigned letter typed on a white sheet, which was handed over to me when I made a personal visit to the organizer’s house at Silchar!) One week ago, before I received that letter, one day, Mrs Gitika Rani Devi ( the woman and the daughter of famous historian Mahendra Kumar Sinha who had played the key role for the formation of the Foundation) had made a telephone call from Pathaerkandi to me (posted at Guwahati) that they were going to present me the Foundation award and verbally invited for my presence in the meeting on 22nd Feb 2005. However, they have changed their decision later on and preferred to confer it to Prof. M.R.Sinha. I found their decision just and laudable. But the manner in which they conferred the special award was a chaos and graceful. I had accepted it only for the reason not to lower the dignity of Mahendra Kumar Sinha, the great hero of our past, to whom I owe my love, respect and gratefulness the most. At that time my sentiment of being a social worker prevailed over the sentiment of being a writer. However, I had expressed my displeasure to Simu Sinha (the grandson of M.K.Sinha). Here I seek to convey my humble request to the organizers conferring any kind of awards not to play with the sentiments of any writer.

In his writing Sri D.J.Sinha pointed out to a mistake and quoted the line “Lord Bishnu killed demon Murari"(Role of Feasts and Festivals in Bishnupriya Manipuri Culture-II and found it ‘flabbergasted’ and ‘tantamount’.

I wrote the original essay in Assameese ( to read before the multilingual audience of Sahitya Bharati’s monthly literary symposium ) which was published in a monthly journal “Satsori”. Ramlal Sinha, the executive Editor of the Sentinel translated it from my original text very sincerely and remodeled the essay in English(in my favour) to publish in the Melange (Sunday Special of the The Sentinel). I am grateful to Ramlal that he had taken much pain to do his considering the importance of the subject matter and showing his love and respect to me as a senior to him in age. He had shown me the translation before making it public. So, all credit goes to Ramlal if there be any merit in the subject matter of the essay. On the other hand, whatever the error in the work, none but myself only responsible for it. However, for the kind information of D J Sinha, I would like to say that in my original writing the line was “paramparagoto biswasmote (puranoto ullekh ase) murari (mur namor daityar ari) srihari bishnue ‘ekadoshi’ namere kanya ejoni sristi kori daityaraj muror binash korisil.” But the mistake done in translation can be ignored as a pen or printing mistake. The exact meaning of my original text should be – “Lord Bishnu or Murari killed Mura, the king of the demons". The word ‘Murari' means the enemy of Mura. However, I am thankful to D J Sinha for pointing out to rectify the error.

Tuesday, 4 January 2011

Assam Public Service Commission Notification [Jobs]

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Courtesy: Meingal 

Assam Public Service Commission notifies for recruitment of the following posts -

1. 1 (One) Permanent Post of Director of Economics & Statistics (HQ) under Planning and
Development Department
2. 2 (Two) posts of Lecturer in Mechanical Engineering Department
3. 1 (One) Post of Lecturer in Civil Engineering Department for Diphu Polytechnic
4. 09 (Nine) Posts of Food Inspector under Health and Family Welfare (A) Department

Last Date for applying : 20.01.2011

For Details click the following links :
www.apsc.nic.in

SSC Junior Engineer Examination-2011

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Staff Selection Commission (SSC)

Junior Engineers (Civil & Electrical) Examination, 2010

Staff Selection Commission (SSC) will hold on Sunday, the 27/03/2011 an open compettitive examination for recruitment to the post of Junior Engineers (Civil & Electrical) in CPWD, MES etc. and Junior Engineer (Civil) in the pay scale of Rs. 9300-34800 grade pay Rs.4200/-.
Vacancies : No. of vacancies for the post of Junior Engineer (Civil & Elect) will be determined in due course.

Age Limit : 18-27 years as on 31/01/2011. Relaxation as per Govt. rules.
Educational Qualification : Diploma in Civil or Electrical or Mechanical Engineering from an institution recognized by Govt. of India or equivalent qualification.
Fee : Rs. 100/- in the form of Central Recruitment Fee Stamps. No fee for SC/ST/PH/Women and Ex-servicemen candidates.


Closing Date : The last date for receipt of application in the commission will be 31/01/2011. For those candidates who are living in remote areas, the last date will be 07/02/2011.

Cantre of Examination and Address to which Applications should be sent :


  • Delhi, Jaipur, Dehradun : Regional Director (NR), SSC, 5th Floor, Block No.12, CGO Complex, Lodhi Raod, New Delhi-110504
  • Hyderabad, Vishakhapatnam, Rajmundry, Guntur, Chennai, Coimbatore, Madurai, Pondicherry, Tirunevelli : Regional Director (SR), SSC, E.V.K. Sampath College Raod, Chennai-600006
  • Kolkata, Port Blair, Gangatok, Jalpaiguri, Bhubaneswar, Sambalpur, Ranchi : Regional Director (ER), SSC, 5, Esplanade Row West, Old Assembly Building, Ground Floor, Kolkata-700001
  • Mumbai, Nagpur, Panji, Ahmedabad : Regional Director (WR), SSC, Army & Navy Building, 1st Floor, South Wing, Pratishtha Bhawan, Old CGO Complex, 101, M.K. Road, Mumbai-400020
  • Allahabad, Patna, Lucknow: Regional Director (CR), SSC, 8-AB, Beli Raod, Allahabad-211002
  • Guwahati (Dispur), Itanagar, Imphal, Shillong, Aizwal, Kohima & Agartala : Regional Director (NER), SSC, Rukmini Nagar, P.O. Assam, Sachivalaya, Guwahati-781006
  • Bangalore, Thiruvananthapuram, Kochi : Regional Director (KKR), SSC, 1st Floor, 2nd Block, 'E' Wing, Koramangala, Bangalore-560034
  • Raipur, Bhopal, Gwalior, Bilaspur, Indore, Jabalpur : Dy. Director (MPR), SSC, 'Nishant Villa', F.Jalvihar Colony, Raipur-492001
  • Chandigarh, Shimla, Jammu, Srinagar: Dy. Director (NWR), SSC, Block No.3, Ground Floor, Kendriya Sadan, Sector-9, Chandigarh-160017

Candidates can also apply online at http://ssconline.nic.in/ up to 31/01/2011.


For further details, please view http://ssc.nic.in/whats%20new%20html/latest_news/JE_Notice-2011.pdf, application form is available at http://ssc.nic.in/whats%20new%20html/latest_news/JE_FORM_2011.pdf and view syllabus at http://ssc.nic.in/whats%20new%20html/latest_news/Syllabus_JE.pdf

Buy SSC Junior Engineer Examination books

BoB Probationary Officers recruitment Jan-2011

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Bank of Baroda (BoB) is inviting application for Probationary Officers in Junior Management Grade / Scale-I:
 

  • Probationary Officers (JMG-I) : 900 posts (UR-450, SC-142, ST-72, OBC-236) 27 posts for PH candidates, Pay Scale : (JMG-I) : Rs.10000-18240/-, Age (As on 01/01/2011) : 21-30 years


Application Fee : Rs. 300/- (Rs. 50/- for SC/ST/ PWD candidates on postage charges only) in any nearest Bank of Baroda Branch with the Fee payment Challan duly filled in and pay, in Cash, the appropriate
Application Fee in Account No.29040200000198 with Bandra Kurla Complex Branch in favour of “Bank of Baroda Recruitment of Officers Recruitment Project 2011-12”. Obtain the Counterfoil (Applicant’s Copy) of the Fee Payment Challan duly received by the Bank with (a) Branch Name & Code Number, (b) Transaction ID, (c) Date of Deposit & amount filled by the Branch Official.

How to Apply : Eligible candidates are advised to apply 'ONLINE' only at Bank of Baroda website.

Important Dates:
Date for Online Registration : 05/01/2011 to 25/01/2011
Date of Written Test : 13/03/2011

For more information, please view http://www.bankofbaroda.com/recruitment.asp?

Buy Bank of Baroda—Probationary Officers Exam Guide

The Man DILS Lakshmindra

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Dils Debojyoti Sinha, Mumbai

The article "A Peek into Bishnupriya Manipuri Literature" published on 30 December 2010 prompted me to write a few lines on Sri L.K.Sinha.

To start with I would like to say that his mother's name which is mentioned as late Juthi Devi, as far as I know was Jyoti (commonly pronounced as 'Juti').His pen name is mentioned as Dils Lakshmindra Sinha but this information seems to be incomplete as his widely-known pen names are 'Bhulanath' and 'Bakalam'. He is also known to his native villagers and relatives as 'Bokka'. This nick name is fondly given by them for his simplicity and meek nature in his childhood.

So far his knowledge of languages are concerned he is not only an expert in Bishnupriya manipuri and English but also in Hindi, Bengali and Assamese. He had formal education in all the languages as mentioned above except Assamese and it deserves special mention that he acquired mastery over this language by his own strenuous efforts.

For his commendable literary creations he has been awarded with 'Gift Of Honour'(Ningor Khuttal)by DILS way back in 1992.So far as the award of Mahendra Memorial Foundation is concerned, that year, the Foundation award was presented to Prof. Manoranjan Sinha and a consolation prize to him (Sri L.K.Sinha).

He is a very good organiser as is evident from newly-formed Bishnupriya Manipuri Writers' Forum. He was also the founder of a literary organisation namely 'Sararel Sahitya Singlup'. Right now, I do not know where it is.

There is no denying the fact that he is a prolific writer but sometimes he makes such comments that leave us stranded. When he says, "Lord Bishnu killed demon Murari"(Role of Feasts and Festivals in Bishnupriya Manipuri Culture-II Dated 06.10.09 in the same blog) we get flabbergasted as it is tantamount to saying "Bokka killed Dils Lakshmindra". I pray such things should not happen.

At last, I wish this versatile personality mental peace, prosperity and success, nonetheless.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

An unenviable Encounter

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A short story by Karunamay Sinha

The car had come to a silent stop, without so much as a hint of a jerk. But the snooze broke all the same. Raghab’s eyes opened without a hint of sleepiness as though he weren’t waking up from a slumber. The driver’s seat was empty. He blinked his eyes, yawned and caught a glimpse of his driver’s receding form heading towards a knot of people a little distance away. Must be a landslide. It is a common occurrence in these hilly terrains. But that is during the rains. Well, sometimes shiny October mornings are not spared too. Rains stopped only a few days ago. He looked out the other window of the car. Serpentine strings of vehicles could be seen stranded on hairpin bends. Must be the road had been blocked for quite some time. He found his driver walking back towards the car, absorbed in some thought. As he came close to the car, his eyes fell on his officer.


‘A big landslide, Sir! Looks like we’re stuck for some time.”

He said nothing. The driver walked towards another, smaller knot of people, perhaps his fellow drivers, relieved that he had informed his officer and was now free to enjoy his time until the blockade was cleared. But a little later he appeared at the car window and leaning towards him said, ‘Why not you straighten your limbs, Sir? Take a walk; you can relieve yourself too!’

Not a bad idea, he thought. ‘Well, all right,’ he said and got out of the car and, standing on his toes, stretched his hands and gave a vigorous yawn. Then at a leisurely pace he stepped towards the spot where labourers were slogging away at clearing the blockade as expeditiously as possible. A man in khaki was overseeing the work. Raghab tiptoed his way to the other side of the blockade, careful not to get his shoes soiled with the soft sticky mud. He had spotted a comparatively less crowded space on the other side of the blockade where he could relieve himself. Perhaps his plan has gone awry. He had gladly taken up this task – making an inquiry into an alleged misappropriation of funds by a Block Development Officer in collusion with the local Samiti leaders. Gladly because his village, his place of birth where his mother still lived, was not far from the place. He expected to save time and spend a night or two with his mother.

This was a sore point – an awkward predicament in his otherwise successful, well-arranged life. His mother would not live a choking city life with her son. She was used to a stately life in the village with command and authority over scores of share croppers who dreaded her, respected her and at times – when faced with misery and want – turned to her for succour. She loved disciplining them, browbeating them and at times showering affection on them. Several times did he try to persuade her to part with the landholdings and live with him, her only heir, who would never have anything to do with agricultural land. But his mother, thoroughly feudal that she was in her attitude, had little faith in the efficacy of an invisible bank balance. She didn’t believe that the surrealistic concept of well being with no perceivable wealth could hold good for generations to come. There was no dearth of people there to look after her. She had no cause for anxiety about a lonely existence in her old age.

A faint smile creased his cheeks even as he sighed. His mother’s distrust of modern bank balance-credit card economic security was irremediable.

‘Raghab!’ a faint, diffident tone rang in his ears, as though coming from the depth of his own erratic thoughts. He was just preparing to tiptoe back to the other side of the blockade, his fingertips clenching the creases of his trousers and one leg already off the ground to take a step past the first blob of sticky mud. He froze there, looked around to make sure it was not a figment of his imagination. Then as, certain that there could be no one to utter his name there, he set down the foot on the targeted space, there was another. Someone was calling him. This time, there could be no mistake about it. He looked around with probing eyes. On the side of the cliff was standing a female labourer smiling at him. Her teeth were almost non-existent, but her gums were very prominent and unusually red.

It struck a chord. He knew the smile, for sure. Some scanning device began scanning his memory at a mad speed. Yes! He could never forget that smile. He retraced his step, turned towards the woman and took a few desultory steps.

‘Ino didi, aren’t you?’

The smile widened with a touch of pleasure and accomplishment. But no words followed. He knew she wasn’t the kind to utter too many words. She was born with a peculiar speech disorder. Not exactly dumb. Her voice was something like the screeching of mice and there was a slight lisp in her speech. She was all gums when she smiled; and she smiled all the time. A flood of memories transported him back to his childhood in one swift stroke.

Ino didi was the daughter of a marginal farmer of the village. She was known for her trademark smile and zero ill-will against anyone. Everyone in the village loved her, and trusted her to do just what she was told. Her family was in some way closely related to theirs. He never had the occasion to find out if there were blood ties between the two families. In all probability, it was closeness between a landlord and his loyal, trustworthy tenant farmer.

Whatever, one very memorable day of his childhood was all about Ino didi. He was not more than four years old then. His parents had gone on a day’s tour of a religious shrine. He’d later learned, it was to soothe their broken hearts – broken at the death of his older brother – that they had made the trip. However, they had left him in the care of Ino didi. For they knew Ino wouldn’t do anything other than what she was instructed. Perhaps her parents were given the overall charge of looking after the child. But it was Ino didi who was there all day long playing with him. He could never forget that day. He had made life hell for the poor, introverted girl. He must that very day fulfil all his long-cherished desires when his parents were away; particularly his desire to explore the neighbourhood. And Ino didi was particularly instructed not to allow him out of the compound. His persistent pestering had broken down Ino didi’s resistance. They had strayed into the woody patch behind the house. The tall trees with dark shadows gathering at their bottoms had a kind of primordiality that had always exerted a pull on him. A fairy tale world was awaiting him there, inviting him to come and explore the mysteries of the shadowy world – shadows with weird schemes of sunlight. At noontimes, when the house wore lonely looks with only his mother cooking in the kitchen, he often tried to steal a foray into that world. But his mother would invariably foil his designs with uncanny astuteness. It was this Ino didi who had opened the door of his fantasy world that day. Once inside the mystic world, Ino didi had become a child herself. She had plucked some kind of wild berries and offered him. The juicy berries had a strange sweet-and-sour taste. Then there was the sighting of that strange creature on a tree – lizard-like to look at but bigger in size and with strange colour combinations. It almost flew from one branch of a tree to another. He had sighted it first and attracted Ino didi’s attention to it. Ino didi’s gaze had frozen for a few seconds before she had grabbed hold of his hand and broken into a run for their dear lives. ‘Blood sucker,’ she had explained later. It sucked blood from the navel of young children like him.

Strangely, he didn’t remember anything else about Ino didi except - much later - a word or two being spoken by the village people about Ino getting married. He hadn’t known what kind of a match had come to marry Ino didi and from where. All these years, he had never once remembered a thing about the poor girl of the village whom everyone pitied, everyone loved but nobody considered anything beyond that.

‘I can’t believe this! Where’s your husband? What’re you doing here? What does your husband do?’ he couldn’t wait to find out everything about Ino. Then, from Ino’s grudging, almost reluctant replies, he learnt her husband was a day labourer. They’d shifted to these parts recently; for it was easier here to find work. They earned better here. Her husband has earned a name as a skilled hand at jobs like mending fences and thatch-roofing houses. He is never short of work, goes out every day to day-labour at residences in the neighbourhood. She works for the highway maintenance people – tarring a worn part sometimes, cleaning the sides and sometimes removing blockades caused by landslides as she was doing now. Altogether, she wasn’t unhappy. Her kids? The elder one works for the forest order suppliers, has married and lives separately. Two have died; the youngest one – a girl – goes to school.

Raghab found nothing more to ask. Ino didi’s story was so brief, and uncomplicated. He stayed put thinking what more to say. Neither did Ino seem to have anything to enquire about him. Perhaps she had known he had become a big officer; there was the unmistakable awe in her eyes, awe of talking with a big man. He groped for a parting word but found none. The all-powerful bureaucrat in him wondered if propriety required that he extend a favour to Ino. What favour could he extend to a self-contained woman who had no complaints in life? Ino most certainly wasn’t a scheming snob. She expected nothing out of her once-upon-a-time familiarity with a little child who had now become a big man.

But it didn’t seem easy on his part to just get away from his Ino didi without something appropriate done to express how happy he was to see her after ages. Something inside him said he owed something to his once-upon-a-time playmate, whom he had, out of naivety, considered his elder sister. But he wasn’t sure what it was.

Fortunately for him, the man in khaki had decided to allow the small cars to pass. There was a commotion and busy movements. He grabbed at the change of scene, turned around to take a quick look at what was happening around, and then with an air of extreme hurriedness took himself off uttering some incoherent words of no particular meaning.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

My Take

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By RK Rishikesh Sinha

It was four years ago I started this blog with a blank mind with one objective to engage readers with almost everything which comes in the bracket of Bishnupriya Manipuri topics. Let me accept when I began I didn’t know – who is Geetiswamy? One can imagine the seriousness of the disease that I was suffering from – like many of you I had been diagnosed with acute scarcity of Bishnupriya Manipuri vitamins and minerals in my body. With the passage of time, I have been recuperated and am healthy now. However, I had another objective – to come up with error-free articles. It was a necessity, dire necessity to gain respect from the readers, so that readers give respect to the writers; in the whole process churning out persons who have a good command over the English language.

How has been my experience working as a self-proclaimed ‘Editor’ (though I refrain from using this word) in between the writers and the readers? I have an enchanting experience, a privilege reading the first-drafted articles from all the Bishnupriya Manipuri writers before it went public here. I still remember reading BN Sinha’s first article. Somewhere in my mind it is deeply etched, later Henryy Sinha’s article hitting my inbox and of those who have written here. What was my reaction reading their first articles? I will come to this point later.

A few readers know that I work as a ‘policeman’. ‘Policing’ (polishing) the books of five New Delhi-based publishers is one of my job profiles from among many roles that I do for a living. I copyedit books. I work as a last and the final editorial filter to the publishing process of books.

Here are three of my instances that I would like to share with you in the context of writings of authors and writers here.

1. Few months back one of my publisher gave me a book ‘How to be Happy?’ written by a Bengali person to edit it. I didn’t know that the book (manuscript) was going to make me unhappy and remorseful to the core of my heart, for complete two months! I was tortured page after page, chapter after chapter. The author was translating ‘everything’ Bengali into English. You and me know how a Bengali person converse and how do they view happiness. I was completely awestruck how the book was accepted for publication that is from a reputed publisher with strict editorial policy. While submitting the book, I narrated my two-month near-death ordeal to the publisher. He consoled me, and gave a cheque with a remark: The author is his friend-of-friend’s friend!

2. Here is another face-to-face experience with one more book on ‘Leadership’. The book was not from the same publisher. This publisher caters book to the researchers and academicians of Indian universities. This time the author was very smart. Though his command over English was not good, he was using the language adroitly. When I revealed this fact to the publisher, he smilingly said ‘Yes’.

3. Of course some books come to me which required no heavy editing. They are done with usual editing. Of this type, there was a book on ‘Using Scientific Laws to Life’. The author has three books under his belt and all are best-selling. This time, the publisher was demanding mountain of mistakes to be found out in the book. ‘If not found, no money, dear’, he instructed me. First editing, few mistakes were found. Feeling the danger that no money will be paid, I had to re-edit the whole book again. Yes, I found ‘mountain of mistakes’.

Coming to BN Sinha’s first article, my reaction was, ‘Yes, this is a Bishnupriya Manipuri article from an unknown reader’. The article broke my wait for which I was waiting. The sad part of my happiness was that I found he is suffering from ‘ellipsis syndrome’ in his writing. What is Ellipsis syndrome? It is the consistent overuse of ellipsis in each sentence, simply the double, triple use of three dots (ellipsis) like this … … …After ‘normal’ editing it was published. I found that he has got good command over vocabulary, and he knows how to use it appropriately. If BN remember, he will agree that after his first article was edited; he was cured to the Ellipsis syndrome. I take him as a writer whom I encountered in my third experience – mistakes not found, no money.

Henryy Sinha brought tsunami in this blog with his writings. Readers were completely swayed by his 12 power-packed articles. Like them I was. I was more, since I read first. His choice of topics were brilliant, near to everybody’s heart and mind. His razor-sharped precision of words with creative use of metaphors and similes sparkle his writings. I must agree such type of writing didn’t come to me yet for editing. If his type of writing comes for editing – I will triple my charge. Reason being – I don’t know how to handle this phrase ‘Seere Seere Shinglei, Kacha Rokot Sitadei’ in English.

Prabal Atreya writes well. I haven’t done even normal editing on his writings. The reason is that his writing comes enmeshed with lot of fats. I love fats. I keep him between Experience 2 and Experience 3.

Pratibha Sinha jumbles up everything in one piece. While reading the articles of Rebati Mohan Sinha, I become a student of Bishnupriya Manipuri General Knowledge rather than of writing.

The article has stretched too long. No diplomatic judgment: I didn’t find anyone whose writing is related to my Experience 1 – I was tortured page after page, chapter after chapter. Definitely I will come up with another article on those writers who didn’t appear in this write-up.

Whatever mistakes are there in this blog, I accept it is due to me. I remember one reader commented on writing mistakes that appear here. 

Happy New Year 2011

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