Sandeep's Quest for Virtual Stardom

**Sandeep’s Quest for Virtual Stardom**

In the bustling chaos of Kolkata, where trams creak along tracks older than most of the city’s dreams, Sandeep Chatterjee, or “Sandy” to his Instagram followers (all 12,347 of them, thank you very much), was chasing a peculiar kind of fame. Not the kind that gets you a statue in Madame Tussauds, but the kind that earns you a blue tick on social media and the occasional free plate of momos from a local food stall desperate for a shoutout. At 27, Sandeep was the proud heir to four crumbling flats in North Kolkata, their rent just enough to keep him afloat while he pursued his true calling: becoming an *influencer*.

Sandeep’s journey began innocently enough. One monsoon afternoon, bored and scrolling through Instagram, he stumbled upon a video of a guy balancing a dosa on his nose while riding a unicycle. The video had 1.2 million views. “If this clown can get famous,” Sandeep muttered, wiping chai off his phone screen, “so can I.” And thus began his descent into the rabbit hole of likes, hashtags, and the relentless pursuit of *content*.

His early posts were modest—pictures of his morning paratha with the caption “#FoodieVibes” (23 likes, mostly from cousins), a blurry shot of a tram with “#KolkataDiaries” (17 likes, including one from a bot named SexyKitten_69). But Sandeep dreamed bigger. He watched YouTube tutorials on “How to Go Viral” and read blogs about “10 Hacks to Hack the Algorithm.” The internet told him he needed a *niche*. Food bloggers were a dime a dozen, fashion influencers needed actual style, and travel vloggers required, well, travel. Sandeep settled on “Kolkata’s Quirky Chronicles,” a vague theme that let him post anything from hand-pulled rickshaws to stray cats napping on temple steps.

The pressure to stand out, however, was real. Sandeep spent hours doomscrolling, watching influencers leap off cliffs in slow motion or dance in front of moving trains. “Maybe I should hang from a Howrah Bridge cable,” he mused one night, only to immediately picture himself slipping into the Hooghly River. Courage, it turned out, was not his forte. He tried safer stunts—like hopping across a busy street on one leg—but chickened out when a scooter nearly clipped his other leg. “Content is hard,” he sighed, posting a selfie with a pigeon instead (#CityVibes, 42 likes).

Then came the Instagram agencies, slithering into his DMs like digital snake charmers. “Boost your followers! Get 10K likes for just ₹5000/month!” they promised. Sandeep, flush with rent money and desperation, bit the bait. Overnight, his follower count skyrocketed. His tram photos now had 3,000 likes, his rickshaw reels 5,000 views. “I’m finally making it,” he told his mirror reflection, ignoring the fact that half his new followers had usernames like “Follow4Follow_420” and zero posts.

But the virtual high came with a cost. Sandeep was glued to his phone, refreshing every platform—Instagram, Facebook, Telegram, even X, where he posted profound thoughts like “Kolkata’s soul is in its chaos #Deep” (2 retweets, both from bots). His real friends, busy with their 9-to-5 jobs at IT firms or family businesses, had no time for his posts. “Bro, I saw your reel,” his childhood friend Arjun lied during a rare meetup. “Cool stuff.” Sandeep fumed silently. *Cool stuff?* That reel took three hours to edit, complete with a trending Punjabi song and a slow-mo pan of a tram’s wheels. Ungrateful philistines.

At home, his parents were no help. “You’re so talented, beta,” his mother cooed, serving him aloo paratha. “Everyone loves your photos.” Sandeep wasn’t so sure. He’d read an article titled “The Passion Trap: When You Love Something You’re Terrible At.” It hit too close to home. What *was* his talent? He wasn’t funny enough for comedy, handsome enough for modeling, or reckless enough for stunts. His most viral post (7,892 likes) was a fluke—a video of a monkey stealing a samosa from a street vendor. The monkey, not Sandeep, was the star.

One evening, as he sat on his balcony overlooking the noisy street, Sandeep had an epiphany—or maybe it was just the rum he’d sneaked from his father’s cabinet. “What if I’m chasing the wrong thing?” he wondered. His virtual friends cheered his every post, but they’d vanish the moment he stopped paying the agency. His real friends, meanwhile, were drifting away, tired of his rants about algorithms and engagement rates. And the scams—oh, the scams. Last week, a “brand collaboration” turned out to be a shady scheme to sell herbal weight-loss tea. Sandeep had nearly sent them his Aadhaar card before his cousin stopped him.

The next morning, Sandeep made a bold move. He posted a reel—no filters, no trending audio, just him sitting on a tram, talking to the camera. “I’m Sandeep, and I’ve been trying to be someone I’m not. I thought being an influencer meant doing crazy stuff for likes. But maybe it’s about being real. So, here’s me, just a guy from Kolkata who loves trams and overthinks everything. Stick around if you want. Or don’t. I’m cool either way.” He braced for a flop.

To his shock, the reel got 1,200 likes—real ones, from real people. Comments poured in: “Bro, this is so relatable!” “Love the honesty!” Even Arjun texted: “Finally, a post that feels like you.” Sandeep grinned. Maybe he wasn’t destined to be the next big influencer. Maybe he didn’t need to be. For the first time in months, he put his phone down and went for a walk, watching the city’s chaos unfold without a hashtag in sight.

And somewhere, a pigeon cooed, blissfully unaware of its missed shot at stardom.

Favour Banking

……………… कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन। मा कर्मफलहेतुर्भूर्मा ते सङ्गोऽस्त्वकर्मणि॥ २-४७ Karmanye vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana, Ma Karmaphalaheturbhurma Te Sangostvakarmani That shloka is from Gita, do your duty and don’t bother about reward. But in today’s world everyone thinks why I should do for others when others don’t bother about me. Yes it is a kind of selfish thinking. Let us come to the ground reality. If without any ulterior motive one does for others then that favor done gets banked like one puts money in the bank. An honest receiver of favor always tries to return the favor and that return would be voluntary without any strings attached. This is known as favor banking. The other day I noticed our maidservant is dusting the bookshelves and also folding our clothes. I was pretty surprised because she is supposed to clean utensils and sweep the floor. I asked my wife about this additional work what she was doing. “She has started doing this on her own.” was her reply. “Why suddenly?” “Remember I got her the LPG connection!” In her house our maidservant was using kerosene stove for cooking but she wanted a LPG gas connection, she did not have the requisite money. My wife paid the initial security amount; my wife took the pain of going with our maidservant in a rickshaw to the Indane distributor, filled up the form after getting all the relevant documents zeroxed. Now she got her gas and has given my wife’s mobile number as her LPG contact number. This extra effort was her way of showing gratitude to us. As per my own experience, I have seen lower strata people are more grateful than those who are in higher strata. In my service life I have helped many to climb the corporate ladder but at a later date majority of them acted as though they got it because they deserved it and no favor done. Last time when we went to Darjeeling we stayed in West Bengal Tourist Lodge, due to delay of our flight we could reach Darjeeling only at 8 pm in the night instead of scheduled arrival of 3pm. The room service man Ratan settled us down quickly by putting on the geezer ,room heater etc. As per my practice, i pay tips when i arrive, so tipped him 100 bucks. Next day early morning he served us bed tea, we looked out of the window and due to cloud Kanchanjungha was not visible , we told him so. He was also feeling sad that on the first day morning we could not see the great peak. We were having tea in our third floor room when heard a knock, opened the door and found Ratan gasping entered the room to inform that the cloud has moved away and Kanchanjungha was visible. Yes we went out in the balcony and got the magnificent view , thanked Ratan for his initiative , tipped him 50 bucks. This was the favor done by Ratan to us by giving that extra service of informing us timely the appearance of the peak. While I was in Darjeeling the last date of a filling form of a golf tournament was over. The starters of golf course were more worried about that than me. They approached the management and got my name entered. Simultaneously another officer of the company sponsoring the tournament made sure my name is there, this senior officer had worked with me in my present company. This incident also proves that favor banking does work. So friends try helping people whenever you can, don’t wait for return. The return may come back with interest consequently which may surprise you.

Sourcing of crowd

Sourcing of crowd

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The idea is to take work and outsource it to a crowd of workers. Well that is the classic definition of crowdsourcing. The irony is  India which is thickly populated country but still enough crowd is not there when you really need them.

Remember in the film Chaudvin  ka chand or is it Barsat ki Raat where Johny Walker is a shire but he would not get any listener to appreciate his sher so he would say ,” Come to my house for my latest sher, oh! There are snacks too!” Well the snacks would be incentive enough to draw a crowd.

I was President of an electrical society for two years, after my retirement. Amitabh my old colleague and others organized good lectures on latest topics but with great difficulty could fill the front 4 rows of the hall. At the end of my tenure of two years on the last day it was my turn to give a “ good bye” lecture, having learnt the trick from the film Chaudvin ka Chand I organized a sumptuous snacks from one of the popular outlets of Kolkata, “Gangaur” and it was quietly informed to all concerned about the food packet . The hall was nearly full and packets were regulated by my friend Gyana and my driver Gopal.

In Delhi I know a guy called Ravindra Mohan who informed me that on a short notice he can organize a crowd of 150 any day.

Now supposing I want to launch myself as Guru Samaranand then I have to hire a hall put on Geruwa attire and ask Ravindra Mohan to supply crowd, put up a banner with miracles performed by me. In India a crowd works like a magnet, the onlookers will get attracted by the crowd and will curiously follow the crowd in the hall. My chelas in Geruwa who are again hired will be chanting some bhajan which actually is a recorded one. Now me sitting on the stage will call one from the crowd and perform a magic which as most of you know I am perfecting. It could be with vanishing water trick or one of my magnetic tricks. My hired crowd would clap by the miracle, the onlookers will get hooked. I will pick up any topic randomly and will give a lecture by stringing that topic with some mythological event or some past event from my stock of stories.

Now I have the attention of the audience so can carry on the charade next day too. The crowd will swell because by this time by word of mouth the miracles performed by me and worldly prabachan has spread because my people have gone round to all nearby pan shops,tea vendors etc and discussed about my divine power. On the third day I perform a few more tricks and my people come to the dais and thank me for healing them of some imaginary disease. In the meanwhile the stall outside is selling the healing medicines, people are giving money in the hundi kept by the side of the stage. By the way I have kept the local constable in loop. Initially I may not make much money as I have to pay to some journalists in vernacular papers to write about me also have to fix up some local TV channels for some live telecast. Before starting the endeavor I have already honed my gift for gab and also brushed up my knowledge of Ramayan and Maha Bharat. Initially I have to spend money to launch me, looking at the reaction I will launch a trust when as you all know the process of converting black to white for all those rich devotees will start. The hundi will come handy for taking care of unaccounted money. My trust will gradually start producing healing medicines from common herbs; here I will go for crowdsourcing. As I will be located in semi urban area with the help of local leaders so will utilize the panchayat to distribute the production work among the villagers. It is a win win situation with villagers as part of my devotees and propagators also they earn on the go. Getting formula will not be difficult with mushrooming Ayurvedic products coming up I have to only hijack one of those chemists working in those spurious setups.

I got the above idea when I was going on gabbing with the local tuk tuk drivers at Taki and a small crowd had gathered around me. Then I told my nephew Shuvo ,” look if I want I can start preaching by putting a geruwa dhoti by keeping beard. Look at these people; they are ignorant about outside world. Whatever I was sharing with them they were gulping those down literarily.”

This article is soft launch of guru Samaranand.

Here is a sample of miracle

Me and Khap panchayat

Me and Khap panchayat

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This happened in Panipat sometimes in late seventies. I was posted from BHEL for commissioning of Panipat Theremal Power station of Haryana Electricity Board  . We were staying in a township which was about 20 kms away from the power station. This township had predominantly jats and  Punjabi refugees. My house owner was Thakral, a teacher who was a  Punjabi refugee. This small hamlet had it's own socioeconomic dimension of rural plus urban. It was a common practice to own cows and buffaloes by the inhabitants in that area, it was common sight to come across some tau type with hookah basking on khatias/charpais and chatting away with neighbours  .Where i was staying i was the only one having a black and white TV set, yes those days BW TV sets were the only one available. On Sundays my drawing-room would become a cinema hall at 6 pm, when Hindi film by Doordarshan would be telecast-ed. My house owner with his family and neighboring friends would come to my house for watching movie. We would organise all available chairs and spread durries in front of the TV set.We did not mind, initially my wife would serve tea but then my house owner advised us not to bother. The life went on beautifully well with my project job and these rustic interactions.

We had an engineer named Ramloo whose wife was quarrelsome, she would often fight with her neighbours, whereas Ramloo was a meek guy like a sheep. They were staying in a house which was shared between them and Grover, the site inchrge of Genlec. Grover was on first floor and Ramloo in ground floor. It so happened that our site in-charge Shamnani who is no more now was on leave so i was holding dual charge of erection and commissioning both. During that period it was reported to me that there had been a serious fight between Ramloo's wife and Mr.Grover. Grover had used abusive language to Ramloo's wife, i knew Grover well and could not believe that he could do that. I was pressurized by my colleagues to resolve the issue. In the evening I rushed to their house in the township  . I could see people from adjoining houses coming out with charpais and proceeding towards Ramloo's house. Lot of people were already  there with their wives on their individual charpais  in front of Ramloo's house. I asked my people to find what was going on. They informed there would be a panchayat where Grover had to stand trial. It appeared Ramloo's wife had made such a ruckus in the area that elders of the area had decided to call a panchayat meeting. I spoke to them, they insisted that Grover had to be punished for misbehaving with a lady.

I went inside Ramloo's house, his wife was crying away and shouting at the ceiling, it was directed at Grover upstairs. I called Grover, he meekly came down. I inquired his version. He said after doing the cabling work whole night he was sleeping in the morning when this lady in her usual style was going on shouting at her kids, that noise disturbed him. He came down asked her to stop shouting and that led to war of words between them. I asked the lady what did she want from Grover, there could not be a police case as panchayat was already there. She haughtily informed me that was the reason why she called panchayat. That was a cheeky one by a South Indian lady in a North Indian town. I took a hard stand and told brusquely to forget about panchayat  and let us resolve the issue like two matured educated families. She went on insisting for Panchayat i asked Ramloo to control his wife. Finally she said let Grover ask for pardon by touching her feet in front of that gathering outside. It was too much for me, i told Ramloo either he was controlling his wife or next day i would transfer him out of Panipat and his kids would suffer as it was middle of academic session. Grover was in tears fearing that he had to face humiliation like that, which probably  would compel him to leave Panipat but then the project will be hit by his departure. Whereas that was the time when the commissioning of the thermal power station was in peak.This conversation was going on for about one hour but in the meanwhile the charpai crowd outside was swelling. Finally i brokered peace by asking Grover to apologize in front of us inside by folding hands.  Ramloo was under pressure from me, he explained the danger in his native Telugu to his wife, she reluctantly agreed. So the crisis was avoided.

I came out with Ramloo family and told the crowd that dispute had been resolved and requested them to go back to their respective houses. They were not happy about the resolution because they could not take part in the song and dance of a Khap panchayat court and met out judgement. They were robbed of their fun.

Copycat

Copycat, We Are All Aping USA

Our clothes, our language, our movies and our music- our way of life –are more powerful than our bombs wrote American writer/ journalist William Broyles. Yes that’s right not only we but throughout the world every one is trying to copy USA in every respect of life.

You come across American sounding avenues in Gurgaon; our own Bollywood is rampantly lifting from Hollywood movies. Ash Bhonsle in one of her interviews said that R D was so fond of English music and we know why. I don’t want to discuss about likes of Pritam or Anu Mallik. At least R D gave some lilting original tunes like the ones in Love Story, 42.

Our TV channels are looking towards America for inspiration the refined word for lifting. Be it “American Idol” or “Are you smarter than a 5th grader”.

Even news reporting format are those of CNN.

The other day I read in news paper that it was revealed that more and more research scholars in India are copy pasting the research work of American researchers…thanks to internet.
A pair of jeans has become a favoured outfit for guys and dolls, thanx uncle sam for that.

At the same time we are claiming the end of white rule, certainly through copy pasting route you can reach the mass production level as China is doing but intellectually you are a slave to those original thinkers or the creators.

During my  visit to China I noticed the presence of those American iconic out lets like Wal-Mart, Mac Donald, KFC etc. The young generation there is on black dress behave like westerner. The English songs are played in hotel lobbies. In 1998 when I visited Tokyothen one of Japanese business associates informed me that among the Asians it seems Japanese are more like Americans.

Left may shout hoarse in condemning anything to do with USA but we are already invaded and captured in every sphere of our life. If Dollar sneezes our Rupee tumbles.

We have not arrived; we slowly got sucked in what is loosely termed as western culture which is in reality American culture. We have followed the policy of “If you can’t lick them then join them.”

Calcutta Maidan and the Holy Ganges

The flowers can represent anything...here the flowers and the fresh leaves represent the future generation...let us protect Maidan and Ganges for them...











These two are related because these are our protectors.The Calcutta Maidan is known as the lungs of the city and Ganges can be termed as our blood stream. But we are hell bent in ravaging these.

GADIARA

GADIARA

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Two of the biggest rivers of West Bengal namely Rupnarayan and Ganges are meeting here on the way to Bay of Bengal. The Ganges flows from Calcutta and Rupnarayan from Kolaghat and they confluence here and then flow towards sea via Diamond Harbour. It is 100 Km from Calcutta. One can come by Bombay Highway from Calcutta upto Uluberia and then turn left for a detour to Gadiara. The highway is excellent and the road from Uluberia to Gadiara is quite good. One can book West Bengal Tourist lodge known as RUPNARAYAN. The tariff for a delux non AC double bed room is a princely sum of 350. Excellent Bengali dish is served in the lodge like posto,sukto,aloobhaja,kasa mangsho,luchi,allor dam,chicken dopiaza etc.Dont expect to get Hilsa dish there, they dont cook as Hilsa is very costly at Rs350 a kg and no one wants to pay high price for the cooked fish as informed by sour faced manager Shankar Roy (no relative of mine).If you bring Hilsa then they will cook it for a price. The best time to go there is either during rainy season so that you can enjoy the nature or winter time.There is ever helping Dulal Chatterjee of the lodge who will take pain to guide you around the lodge and give you the historical background. It seems the property where the lodge is located belonged to some Mullick who was the Jamindar of that place. There are booze shop so no hassle. Ideally one can camp there 2 days easily. We did not like to go anywhere else and stayed put to watch both the rivers in its different hues. An ideal place for honey mooners. There are two AC rooms but one is kept vacant for the MD of the WB tourism,you know the typical Indian VIP hang up at the cost of public .

We were there from 2nd July to 3rd July 2007.The gathering cloud was moving towards Calcutta to cause deluge on 3rd and 4th July,2007. So started the pics with the flooded road of 3rd July at Park Circus crossing.

Moghlai Paratha, the vanishing dish of Bengal

I dont know how Moghlai Paratha is known as Moghlai........it is a creation of Calcutta and a pure Bengali affair.My tryst with this paratha started when I joined IIT,Kharagpur.I am from Delhi which is famous for all kind of Moghlai preparations for obvious reason of being the capital of Moghals......Daryahgaunge,Chandni Chowk area is having hordes of shops selling moghlai preparations but definitely not Moghlai paratha of the kind available in Calcutta and especially in Anadi's cabin.Sadly this paratha is losing out to other fast foods like rolls,chowmin,piza,burger etc.The old die hard fans of Moghlai paratha like me ,my wife and my son still frequent Anadis for his double egg Moghlai paratha.I was surprised when I found this young group is savouring the world famous paratha in Anadi's cabin,Calcutta. I hope this generation would see to it that this wonder paratha does not become extinct...now it is in the list of endangered foods of Bengal.
I have collected the recipe of the paratha and pasted it for those who are not in Calcutta and want to try out.This is not recipe of Anadi's moghlai.Enjoy



Ingredients:
Maida : 300 Gms Egg : 2 nos Oil to cook Baking powder: 1 teaspoon Salt to taste
Direction Mix well the flour, baking powder and salt. Rub the flour with 2 tablespoons of oil and add little water at a time and make it into a smooth dough. Divide the dough into 8 balls and and roll them into flat thick rounds. Apply little oil, sprinkle some flour and fold it into semicircle. Again apply some oil and flour and fold it lengthwise. Roll it, press down and roll out into square of 8 inches by 8 inches. Brush the surface of the paratha with beaten eggs and turn all four corners towards the center. Heat a girdle and apply oil liberally. Cook the paratha in it applying oil along the edges. Fry on both the sides till brown patches appear and serve hot with salad and curry.

My sadhu time

My sadhu time
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The sadhu maharaj was there on the dias.The hall was crowded. All bhaktas were on the durri which was spread in front of the dias.There were kitsch pictures of Krishna,Ram & Sita,hanuman in the back.Low key ramdhun could be heard from a distance.I entered the hall and took my seat in the back.The low key kirtan with the incense burning at strategic corners created a mesmeric atmosphere. People were whispering there was no loud talk. All eyes were fixed on the sadhuji as though a miracle was going to be performed. There was an atmosphere of great expectation.I leaned side ways and whispered to my neighbour,"What is going to happen?" "Levitation", he replied benovalently. I was quite excited as I have watched in TV the magician David Blain levitate in the streets of New York. I eagerly waited.The ramdhun was being sung in a faster mode,all the devotees closed their eyes and raised their hands.I could not follow how these people would watch levitation with closed eyes.I thought to myself "Is it that in our mental screen we have to imagine sadhuji is levitating.Be it then." I also closed my eyes and raised my hands. Suddenly I felt as though I was holding a bar in my hand and I was being pulled up.Oh my god this was a reverse process we were levtating.I must have risen to a height of a foot or so above the ground when my cell phone started ringing.I forgot to put that on silent mode.I huriedly reached for my cell phone in my pant pocket and released that invisible bar.I fell with a thud.I was lying on the floor of my bedroom and the alarm clock was ringing,it was morning ,but the dream was so real.