About the book: Sonagachi in Calcutta is a haven of centuries-old traditional area of brothels. Conventionally, that tradition has still been running on in its own course of arrogance and chauvinism on a solid ground of its glory and grandeur. Traditionalism is outdated. Traditionalism is to be rationalised. That outdated traditionalism remains in a proverbial area of brothels, and a recognisable spot of all dishonest, secret, illegal and criminal activities. There is no all-inclusive trust. There has been no breakthrough. Like a desperate child cries for his mother and knows that the mother will come and take care of everything, sex-mongers relentlessly called their own beloved sex-worker by name or by 'my sweetheart' or by 'my darling'. A rude awakening of evening all around the brothels of Sonagachi began to grow up like a bellowing bull. Some say, it is a royal road to go to hell. Some say, if there is truly a heaven on earth, it is that heaven to get peace in mind in the midst of a lot of noise, arguing, fighting, conspiracy and confusion. The socio-political ambience around Sonagachi is still warmer as it was before. A thousand unutterable fears and sadness sits at the heart of this area. Much as the people disregard its name, Sonagachi has borne witness many historical events, political mayhem, and societal pandemonium in India for over centuries. But it has still held its name as it got in. The ill-fated women of Sonagachi yell like savages. As the sun went down, Sonagachi stood out well in its splendour. It is a proverbial area of brothels---a wonderland of extravagant indulgence. It was very important to the customers of all varieties, all- inclusive political leaders, underworld criminals, murderers, smugglers, and what not. They have become much wilder to the society. Most of them in beguiling voice were apt to cling to the influence of the ruling Government. At night mean and contemptible customers mustered strong at Sonagachi to make contingency plans on a highly contentious issue. They are full of cunning, aren't they? If our experiences are not digested it repeats itself. Why does the soldier give up his life for the country? As the situation demands it, the soldier gives up his life. The name (Sonagachi) means 'tree of gold'; folklore has it that it was christened after a saint, Sanaullah Gazi, entombed close to the Shiva temple in the colony. Fabled buildings inside Sonagachi---Neel Kamal, Lal Kamal, Prem Kamal, Ganga Jamuna, Night Lovers Sangam and Nanda Ranir Bari---live on undiminished. Sex-mongers and criminals have struck the weak and the vulnerable, indeed a segment that cannot expect the government's to the extent desired. Sonagachi is a proverbial place of utter depravity and unreserved wantonness where a still, small voice is always inactive. Hundreds and thousands of deplorable episodes have centred on Sonagachi for over many decades. The hired criminals, party-sponsored criminals, and political leaders are the regular customers. It stands alone like a deserted world. At midnight, every house becomes the hubbub of a lot of noise and excitement. A crop of political incidents frequently happens. As the evening approaches, every house is agitated with delight like a waving sea. These houses are momentarily dazzling and superficially attractive, but they show no significant rise or decline from one period to another. Mostly half-educated political leaders of Bengal, infatuated with a new wave of antiquated and obsolete ideologies, and hidebound policies, narrowed down the secular democratic choices of people and organized rigged games and tolerated rowdyism. So if the nation is not run well as well as it might be, the fault is largely on our own folly. An idle man is like a house-keeper who keeps the door open for any burglar. The stars are all suns and shine by their own light. Only the sun looks large to us, and we receive its heat because it is near....
