ANOTHER BIRTHDAY PARTY: Paritosh Sen at Birla Academy of Art and Culture. Picture by Aranya Sen

It was the turn of the Birla Academy of Art and Culture to celebrate the 88th birthday of Paritosh Sen on Wednesday evening. It was supposed to be an adda and like most addas of today, there was nothing spontaneous about it. Surrounded by artists and a huge audience, Sen cracked jokes — some off-colour — and recounted events from his chequered career. He described the art classes in Madras under his guru Debiprasad Roychoudhury, who made quite frank references to the female anatomy.

Sen, who is a wonderful writer himself, was at his best when he recounted his encounter with Abanindranath Tagore in 1939. Although the master was initially dismissive of his paintings — “Have you shat here?” he commented — he later warmed up to him when Sen used his imagination to identify the “kutum katum” — whimsies created with odds and ends — that Abanindranath had shown him.

When Sen’s old friend, artist Veena Bhargava, asked him if, given a choice, he would like to be a woman in next life, Sen, who was togged up in cream kurta and orange jacket, said he would not mind that, provided he remained an artist.

A large chocolate cake was cut, balloons were set free, guests gushed, but Sen was too tired to stay any longer. He had just recovered from illness and his voice was broken. Followed by an enthusiastic crowd, Paritosh Sen left the hall in a hurry.

Late night flower service

It is past midnight on AJC Bose Road close to Minto Park. A young man with several huge bags hanging from the handle is cycling down the relatively deserted road two nights before Diwali. He stops in front of a huge apartment block and hollers out somebody’s name as he reaches the shuttered gate. He gets off the cycle, takes out a bundle and chucks it across the barrier. It contains fresh garlands, brought from South 24-Parganas. That’s his job — delivering flowers so that residents of these flats do not miss their early morning pujas. He covers a good part of south Calcutta every night before he returns home at 1.30am each day. Night-shifters don’t work at BPOs alone.

Diwali harbingers

FLOWN AWAY? The sparrow, like shyama poka, is disappearing

Shyama poka or Diwali poka they used to be called once. They were lime green and black and tiny but when they alighted on one’s skin, they left behind itchy bumps. These mites were a must every November during Kali puja. Attracted by bright lights, hosts of these insects would invade interiors and pandals, and next morning floors and window sills would be covered with thousands of these dead insects.

But like sparrows they seem to have disappeared altogether. This Kali puja few if any of these insects could be detected anywhere.

Are they victims of the overcast skies that never seem to brighten up this season, and drastic weather changes?

(Contributed by Soumitra Das)