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Conversation

‘Soumitra Chatterjee was my father first and then everything else’

Poulami Bose Chatterjee converses with Ratnottama Sengupta

Young Soumitra Chatterjee with his daughter, Poulami. Photo provided by Ratnottama Sengupta

“All the recovery Rono Bhaitu[1]( Soumitra’s grandson) has made, is entirely due to his mother,” Soumitra Chatterjee (1935-2020) had said to me when I met him before Covid set in. His voice was laden with deep affection and paternal pride for his daughter. Deservedly so, as the world has been witnessing since the star actor passed away in November 2020. Poulami took upon herself the male mantle of lighting her father’s pyre.

An older Soumitra Chatterjee with his grandson, Ronodeb Bose. Photo provided by Ratnottama Sengupta

But that was neither the beginning nor the end of her duty towards her father. I had seen her perform on stage alongside the thespian in Homapakhi [A Legendary Bird] that had explored the complexities of a society trying to reconcile its modern aspirations with traditional roots.

And last November she directed Janmantar [Rebirth], an original play Soumitra Chatterjee had written in 1993 but was never staged before. Seen through the eyes of a matinee idol who is visiting a remote village in Purulia, it focused on ills like child marriage, witch hunting, clash between and land owners and cultivators.  “Unfortunately, 30 years later too, all the ills are still thriving on that soil,” Poulami said to me.

Poulami with Soumitra. Photo provided by Ratnottama Sengupta

And in January, even as the definitive biography Soumitra Chatterjee and his World was being launched in the Kolkata Literary Meet, she staged Chandanpurer Chor [The Thief of Chanderpur], his light hearted transliteration of Jean Anouilh’s Carnival of Thieves[2], to mark his birth anniversary.

On the eve of the International Women’s Day I conversed with Poulami, whose parents have been an integral part of my life too.   

Ratnottama Sengupta: Who is Poulami? A Bharatanatyam dancer? A theatre person? Mother of an actor with a brief trajectory? Or, daughter of Soumitra Chatterjee?

Poulami Bose Chatterjee

Poulami Bose: I think Poulami is a bit of all this — along with a passionate theatre practitioner. I am my mother’s daughter too. I hope I am a loyal friend to my friends. But above all I’m myself. I like to think of myself as a free spirit — absolutely totally in love with my daughter and son and music and dance and theatre and all that is wonderful in the world.

RS: When did you first realise that your father was not a 10-5 pm office going father like that of other girls? That he was a star?

PB: For a long time in my growing up years I actually didn’t realise how big a star he was. He was a very loving, hands-on father, very involved in our lives. I always knew he was an actor but didn’t realise the magnitude of his stardom. He never brought that aspect home. Our home was always filled with lively discussions, about books, music, paintings, dance, theatre, cinema, the environment, travel… It was a beautiful childhood, very loving, very secure.

Bapi [father] and Ma were always introducing us to new things. Encouraging us to embrace the world. I thought that was normal and that’s what every father was like. Only after I grew up did I realise his impact on the Bengali moviegoers’ lives.

RS: What did a ‘cine star’ mean to you when a) you were learning Bharatanatyam under Thankamani Kutty? b) Studying? c) Getting married to Ruchir Bose?

PB: The word ‘Cine Star’ didn’t matter much when I was learning dance or studying because I was treated just like any other student, by my teachers and my friends. In fact my father didn’t believe in the word ‘Star’. He maintained that he was a professional actor — and we were certainly not encouraged to have airs and graces about us. So we interacted normally with people, and people did likewise. Some people were of course star struck but they didn’t make a difference to me. As for getting married to Ruchir: he was and still is a very down to earth person, far removed from the film industry, very humane. He and his family have always accepted me and treated me for who I am rather than who my father was.

RS: Who was a bigger star for you — Soumitra Chatterjee or Satyajit Ray?

PB: Of course Satyajit Ray! Soumitra Chatterjee was my father first and then everything else, whereas Satyajit Ray was larger than life. We grew up hero worshipping him. Our whole family was absolutely in awe of him — as a person, as a filmmaker, an author and the rest. We were influenced a great deal by his way of life. His sensibilities. In fact we still idolize him.

RS: Which films of Soumitra Chatterjee have you loved most?

PB: Oh there are so many! Apur Sansar, Sansar Simante, Jhinder Bondi, Koni. Ekti Jiban, Dekha, Mayurakshi, Agradani, Ashani Sanket, Abhijan, Sonar Kella, Ganadevata, Atal Jaler Ahwan, Aparichita, Teen Bhubaner Pare, Baghini, Basanta Bilap, Shakha Prasakha, Charulata, Kapurush, Akash Kusum, Dwando, Borunbabur Bondhu…[3] I can go on.

The most impressive thing for me was his versatility. He was different in all the films that I have mentioned above. He was one actor who didn’t have mannerisms. He always became the character. I have seen him doing a lot of homework, research to delve deep into the character’s psyche. Acting was his passion and that was evident in whichever role he played.

RS: Which film of your father has impacted you most? One that moved you at a personal level, perhaps because you identified with it most?

PB: I think Koni. His now iconic dialogue, “Fight Koni, fight!” has stayed with me till this day. Whenever I feel low or face any kind of obstacle, I always remember him in the film. How the human spirit is capable of rising against all odds. How hard work and determination can carry you forward. It inspires not to give up without a fight.

RS: Soumitra Da was a Master in Bengali; Deepadi[4] in English. Who guided you in your studies? Who selected what books you will read?

PB: My parents, like I said earlier, were hands on parents. They, both, helped me with my school work. The atmosphere in our house revolved around books, so we read a lot while growing up. Ma had done her MA in Philosophy. She and Bapi introduced me to both English and Bengali literature. Bapi was more strict, he expected me to read classics and serious books. Ma was more liberal, she let me read anything I wanted to, including romance novels which my father thought were a waste of time.

Soumitra and his wife Deepa. Photo provided by Soumitra Chatterjee

RS: So who are your favourite authors?

PB: I am eclectic in my choice. I read classics as well as bestsellers, plenty of them. My favourite authors are Tarashankar Bandopadhyay,  Bibhuti Bhushan, Manik Bandopadhyay, Jibanananda Das, Shakti Chattopadhyay,  Sunil Gangopadhyay, Charles Dickens, O Henry, Oscar Wilde, Maupassant, Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay, Samaresh Basu, John Grisham, Pablo Neruda, Gabriel García Marquez, Arundhati Roy, Agatha Christie, Akhtaruzzaman Elias, Humayun Ahmed, Jeffrey Archer, Khaled Husseini, Chitra Divakaruni Banerjee, Satyajit Ray, Sukumar Ray, Saradindu Bandopadhyay, Paolo Coelho, Gerald Durrell, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte, Lewis Carroll… to name a few!

RS: Soumitra Da was a poet. He also translated plays — classics of world theatre — into Bengali. What was he most happy to do — act in movies? Write and direct plays? Or retire to the inner world of poetry?

PB: All three. I’ve never seen him sit idle or waste time. It depended on his mood — he loved doing all three. But I must add: theatre was, always, his first love. He was deeply influenced by Sisir Bhaduri (1889-1959), with whom he had started out. He directed plays for Pratikriti, a group that Ma had — and he directed plays for Abhinetri Sangha, set up by the actors of Tollygunge.

RS: Deepadi was an ace badminton player. Did she give up her own world to be Mrs Soumitra Chatterjee? 

PB: She gave up her career primarily for us. Bapi was at the peak of his career and was naturally very busy. Ma felt we needed to have at least one parent around, always. In retrospect, I realise it was a huge sacrifice. But I have to say, both my brother and I needed her. I think she realised that and did what most mothers do: she prioritized us over her career.

Ma had the biggest heart ever. She was more intelligent than the three of us put together. And she was non-judgmental about who she was reaching out to. So many sportswomen she helped, on her own. And I vividly remember this young Muslim boy in New Market who always carried her shopping to the car. One day Ma learnt that he had TB. She immediately brought him home and organised a room on the terrace for him to stay until he recovered. She didn’t hesitate because she had children, she didn’t seek the advice of doctors, she didn’t think twice because her husband was a star!

RS: Why did you choose to carry forward Soumitra Chatterjee’s legacy on stage rather than on screen? 

PB: Theatre kind of seeped into me. I used to watch Bapi – when he was idling, he would arrange the empty cigarette and matchboxes to design sets. I have been on stage ever since I could walk. It is my first love. I’m passionate about live performances, be it dance or theatre. Not that I didn’t get offers for films but I never actively pursued them. I married relatively early and had both my children by the time I was 26. Stage was always more accommodating and easier to manage. And till now the magic of the stage hasn’t worn off. I am still madly in love with the stage. Screen just didn’t happen… no particular reason, really.

RS: Soumitra Da was proud of his grandson’s screen presence. And he was extremely proud of the manner in which you handled your son’s unfortunate accident. Would you like to talk about it?

PB: Bapi had high hopes for Ronodeep. He felt Rono was a very sensitive actor perfectly suited for the screen. He was devastated by Rono’s accident. It was the most tragic thing to have happened in all our lives. But I have come to terms with it. I count my blessings — it could have been worse! Rono is with us — a bright and wonderful boy, sensitive and sweet, full of love and empathy. He still has a long way to go in terms of recovery and health but he’s getting there, one step at a time…

I have learned a lot from this phase of my life. I continue to learn every day. It has also shaped me, moulded me as a person. Bapi-Ma told me always to have grace even under pressure, to be always dignified. I have tried to follow them.

RS: Can you recount one cherished moment with your father?

PB: In May 2020, months before he passed away, during Covid, Bapi and I were just sitting and talking about various things. Suddenly he told me, “Mitil I have never said this to you before but I want you to know that I am very proud of the way you have conducted yourself during Bhaitu’s accident and every day since then. Your dignity and your grace has made me really happy. I’m so proud that you have turned out to be the person you are!”

All through my life I will cherish this one moment.

RS: In today’s world many daughters are taking up the responsibility of carrying forward the legacy of their fathers. What, in your opinion, has brought about this social change? Did Soumitra Chatterjee raise you to (consciously) fight patriarchy?

PB: I guess the world is waking up to the fact that what sons can do, daughters can do better! I really don’t know what exactly has brought this social change but I definitely welcome it. My daughter is a great source of strength for me. She is my best friend. My father had raised my brother, Sougata, and me as equals, maybe favouring me a tad more!

Bapi was always ahead of his times. He always told me, “The sky is the limit, you can do whatever you set your mind to.” But it was Ma who very consciously taught me to fight patriarchy. She was a champion for the girl child.

RS: Soumitra Da was never lured by the reach and fame of Bollywood? So, why did he direct Stree Ka Patra[5], the telefilm he made for the national television, in Hindi?

PB: Bapi believed that he could deliver best in his own mother tongue. Besides, he was not enamoured of the kind of films made in Bollywood at that time. He loved his life here, his theatre, his poetry, and co-editing Ekshan, the culture magazine that first published Satyajit Ray’s script. Going to Bollywood, he felt, would put a stop to all his literary and theatrical pursuits.

However, he got the offer to direct Stree Ka Patra for National Doordarshan, and it came with the clause that it had to be in Hindi. The other telefilm he directed, Mahasindhur Opar Theke [ From the Other side of the Ocean] was in Bengali 

RS: Many uncharitable people say that Soumitra Chatterjee wasted his talent by limiting himself to Bengali films and by indiscriminate selection of roles — because of his family responsibilities. Your response to this?

PB: Limiting himself to Bengali films was a conscious decision he made. And I have just elucidated the reasons. Yes he wanted to provide for his family, and he did so the only way he knew to — by acting. He never shied from saying that he was a professional actor. And if he wanted to take on the responsibilities who is anyone else to talk about it?

He could have abandoned his family like many others. He chose not to. His family, his life, his choices… that’s all I can say.

RS: You have grown up in close proximity with stars like Sharmila Tagore, Madhabi Mukherjee, Sandhya Roy, Tanuja, and directors like Tapan Sinha, Ajoy Kar, Tarun Majumdar, Rituparno Ghosh. Please share some memories/ anecdotes with us.

PB: The only name in the list who I have grown up in close proximity with is Tapan Sinha, whose birth centenary is being celebrated. He was a wonderful human being! While we were growing up we didn’t interact much with people from the film industry. We certainly met them but at parties, weddings, social events… 

My parents had a huge circle of friends. A doctor’s group. My mum’s friends. Poets like Shakti Kaku and Sunil Kaku. My dad’s friends like Nirmalya Acharya, the co-editor of Ekshan. Directors Ajit Lahiri, Ashutosh Mukherjee, Nripen Ganguly who was fondly called ‘Nyapa Da.’ Friends from theatre. His childhood friends. It was a vast cross section of people, so it was wonderful, happy and great fun growing up around so many amazing people.

RS: Gaachh [Tree], the documentary by Catherine Berger, focused only on his stage life. Abhijan[6][The Expedition] directed by renowned actor Parambrata Chatterjee, did not excite cineastes who have adored Soumitra Chatterjee, honoured with Dadasaheb Phalke for cinema, Sangeet Natak award for theatre, decorated with the Lotus award of Padma Bhushan and the French Order des Arts et des Lettres. Will you give us a biopic of Soumitra Chatterjee on stage?

PB: I am not in favour of a biopic for someone like Bapi. On the other hand, a stage production would be limiting. He was a multihued talent. It is difficult to capture so many facets of his personality. It is a daunting task to encompass every nuance, every shade of such an extraordinary life in a single film. A biopic should not be made if it does not do justice to the magnificence of the man.

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[1] Ronodeb Bose, grandson of Soumitra Chatterjee, had a bike accident in 2017

[2] Jean Anouilh (1910-1987), Carnival of Thieves(1938)

[3] Bengali films in which Soumitra Chatterjee played the lead.

[4] Deepa Chatterjee, wife of Soumitra Chatterjee

[5] A pun in the heading. Stree is woman, Patra is vessel as well as a prospective groom. So, a Woman’s Vessel or Prospective Groom

[6] Soumitro Chatterjee played the lead in the 1962 Abhijan, directed by Satyajit Ray

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Ratnottama Sengupta, formerly Arts Editor of  The Times of India, teaches mass communication and film appreciation, curates film festivals and art exhibitions, and translates and write books. She has been a member of CBFC, served on the National Film Awards jury and has herself won a National Award. 

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

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Feature

Interviewing Bulbul: Remembering Mrinal Sen…

A writer, a painter, an actor too? Which of these have I known in my friend, Bulbul Sharma? Ratnottama Sengupta ponders as she reverses the gear in the time machine

Bulbul Sharma

I have never formally ‘interviewed’ Bulbul Sharma. That’s because I was editing her writings even before I met her, became friends with her, with her brother Dr Ashok Mukherjee, her sister-in-law, Mandira, whose brother-in-law, Amulya Ganguli, was a much-respected political commentator including with The Statesman and The Times of India which I joined after I shifted to Delhi.

There were many journalists in her family. Bulbul herself was a columnist with The Telegraph when I joined the ‘handsome’ newspaper. Her columns on ‘Indian Birds’ would always come with her own illustrations. These later combined to become The Book of Indian Birds for Children – and now she’s penning stories for neo-literates. So I have never been able to separate the two souls of Bulbul – a writer whose books have been translated into French, German, Italian, Finnish, and an artist in the collection of National Gallery of Modern Art, Lalit Kala Akademi, UNICEF, Chandigarh Museum, Nehru Centre, London, National Institute of Health, Washington.

Bulbul, born in Delhi and raised in Bhilai, studied Russian and literature at Jawaharlal Nehru University before going to Moscow for further studies, in 1972. When she returned a year later, she decided to pursue her other love and made a career in art. So, in mid 1980s, once I shifted to Delhi, I got to know the artist Bulbul at close quarters. By then she was an active graphic artist who worked in the Garhi Artists’ Studio.

She would do papier mache items – sculptures, or of day-to-day usage. Then, she was teaching art to children of construction site workers left in the care of the Mobile Creche. Soon she was handholding me in creating monoprints in printmaking workshops, while my son started taking serious interest in art even as he keenly participated in her storytelling sessions.

And then one day Bulbul invited me to join her and Dolly Narang of The Village Gallery in Hauz Khas, to do a workshop with the inmates of Tihar Central Jail, one of the toughest in Asia, which had started off on its reformation trail under the no-nonsense IPS officer, Kiran Bedi, who dreamt of giving convicts “the hope for a better future once they stepped out as free people.”

The other avtar of Bulbul is the one you are most likely to encounter online. A gifted narrator who depicts people and places she has known and seen in person, styled with little complication, to bring out the beauty in everyday life. Her first collection of short stories, My Sainted Aunts (1992) had bewitched me as much as my son, then in his pre-teen years. For, it etched with endearing affection the reality in a Bengali household that abounded — especially in my childhood — with pishimas[1]and mashimas[2] who were eccentric yet lovable. These aunts are easily identifiable and not easily forgettable though few aunts today are widows in white, eating out of stoneware, shunning onions, or an ‘outsider’: caste, creed, chicken and dog — all were barred.

A few years down, Bulbul, a naturalist who grows herbs in her orchard in the folds of Himalaya and often etches carrots and onions, came out with The Anger of Aubergines (1997) which had cuisine and recipes layering the text. It is a collection of stories about women for whom food is passion, or obsession. “For some it is a gift, for some a means of revenge, and for some it is a source of power,” as Bulbul herself might summarise. Once again, my gourmet family loved it.

Food is the most elementary aspect of human society and culture. And Bulbul has repeatedly capitalized on this multi-contextual significance of food. Not surprising, when I was editing an Encyclopedia of Culture, for the publishing house Ratna Sagar, I directly went to Bulbul for the chapter on ‘Cuisine’. In quite the same way, when a literature festival in Amritsar’s Majha House got Bulbul and me together on a panel, it was to talk about food as an expression of culture.  “Learn everything you can, anytime you can, from anyone you can. There will always come a time when you will be grateful you did…” Bulbul once told a classful of students what she herself has practiced through life.

But with all this, I had virtually forgotten that Bulbul had acted in a film by Mrinal Sen[3]. Bulbul herself reminded me of this after reading my interview with Suhasini Mulay[4] occasioned by the ongoing birth centenary of the director of watersheds in Indian cinema like Bhuvan Shome[5]. I promptly wrote to her asking her to remember the salient ‘truths’ she had learnt by acting in the first of Sen’s Calcutta Trilogy[6].

Interview (1971) was a slim tale – a uni-linear storyline that unfolds on screen as a non-linear narrative. Stylistically it was the opposite of Calcutta 71 (1972), the second of Sen’s Calcutta trilogy, which built on stories by eminent authors like Manik Bandopadhyay, Prabodh Sanyal, and Samaresh Bose. Interview was about Ranjit, whose love interest Bulbul, was enacted by Bulbul Sharma.

The story went thus: A personable, smart but unemployed Ranjit is assured, in Calcutta of the post-Naxal years, of a lucrative job in a foreign firm by a family friend – if he shows up in a suit. It can’t be such a big ‘IF’, right? Wrong. He can’t get his suit back from the laundry because of a strike by the labour union. His father’s hand-me-down doesn’t fit him. He borrows from a friend but, on his way home, a fracas ensues in the bus and the net result is Ranjit is without a suit to appear in for the critical Interview. Will he, must he, go dressed in the hardcore Bengali attire of dhuti-panjabi?

Just the year before, Pratidwandi (1970) had been released, and it too had an interview at the core of the script. The first of Satyajit Ray’s Calcutta trilogy[7], it had cast newcomer Dhritiman Chatterjee, who would play the pivotal role in Padatik (1973), the clinching film in Sen’s trilogy. But Interview had cast another newcomer who was crowned the Best Actor at Karlovy Vary for playing Ranjit. In subsequent years, he became a megastar of the Bengali screen whom Ray too cast in his penultimate film, Shakha Prosakha (1990). And even as he was scoring a century in films, Ranjit Mallick’s daughter, Koel, was scaling heights as a lead actress.

Bulbul Sharma and Ranjit Mallick in Interview: Photo provided by Ratnottama Sengupta

Contrast this with Bulbul: She did not pursue a career in acting. So how had she come to play the Bulbul of Interview? Let’s hear the story in her own voice.

Bulbul Sharma: I was visiting my cousin sister Sunanda Devi — Banerjee who was a very renowned Bengali actress in the 1950s. She had featured in New Theatre’s Drishtidan[8] (1948), directed by Nitin Bose; Anjangarh[9] (1948), directed by Bimal Roy; opposite Uttam Kumar in Ajay Kar’s Shuno Baranari[10](1960) and Chitta Basu’s Maya Mriga [11](1960).

Sunanda Didi and her husband[12], who was a film distributor, had produced Mrinal Sen’s first film, Raat Bhore[13](1957). Mrinalda had come to her house to discuss something with her husband and he saw me. He asked my cousin if I would like to act in a Bengali film. I was 18 years old and a student at JNU then. I was thrilled but my parents were not keen at all. However, though reluctantly, they agreed since it was Mrinal Sen. By this time he had won national and international awards with Bhuvan Shome. 

Me: How did you prepare for the character? Did Mrinalda brief you? I don’t think he had a script in hand…

Bulbul: I did not do anything to prepare. My name in Interview is ‘Bulbul’, and Ranjit Mallick is ‘Ranjit’. Mrinalda said, “Be your natural self. Don’t try to act.” In fact I am an art student in the film. The only problem was that since I had lived all my life in Delhi, my Bengali accent was not very good. He often teased me about it. “Keep that smile for my camera,” he would say to me.

Me: Tell me about your co-actors Bulbul. Do you recall any incident that stays on in memory?

Bulbul: I remember my co-actor, Ranjit Mallick, was a serious, very quiet person. I think he got fed up of my constant chatter. He asked me once if everyone in Delhi talked so much. I was not surprised that he became one of the biggest stars in Bengali cinema but we did not keep in touch, alas.

Me: Why did you not think of pursuing acting as a career?

Bulbul: Acting was not something I had ever thought of doing. This film just happened by chance. Painting and creative writing was my passion and still is. But don’t lose hope! Recently I was offered a role of a grandmother. I might just do it!

Me: How did you respond to Interview when it released more than 50 years ago? And how do you respond to it now?

Bulbul: When I saw the film almost fifty years ago I don’t think I really understood what a brilliant film it was. I was 18 and just happy to see myself on the big screen.

Now when I saw Interview again, I really admired the way the everyday situations in a middle class Bengali home are played out. The scene when Ranjit’s mother, the great actress Karuna Banerjee – who had played Apu’s mother in Pather Panchali – searches for the dry cleaner’s receipt is just heart breaking.

The interview scene itself is so sensitively done. You want Ranjit to get the job but you know it will not happen. There is such understated humour, anger and sadness in that scene. I wish I could tell Mrinalda all that today!

Me: Interview, the first of Mrinalda’s Calcutta Trilogy, is considered a milestone in his oeuvre because of its socio-political content as well as its naturalistic form. How does it compare with the other two films of the Trilogy – Calcutta 71 and Padatik?

Bulbul: Unfortunately I have not seen these two films.

Me: Would you compare it with Ray’s Pratidwandi which also centred on a job interview?

Bulbul: Yes, Ray’s Pratidwandi also deals with the theme of unemployment during that turbulent period – 1969 to 1971 – in Kolkata. Yet they are not at all similar.

I think Mrinalda’s slightly impish, dark humour is lacking in the other film. Both are amazing films by our most brilliant directors. Films you very rarely get to see now.

Okay Bulbul, now my son and I will both wait to meet your onscreen Grandma avtar!

[1] Paternal aunts

[2] Maternal aunts

[3] Indian filmmaker,

[4] Actress, had her break in films when she was picked by Mrinal Sen for Bhuvan Shome

[5] 1969 film directed by Mrinal Sen (1923-2018)

[6] Three films by Mrinal Sen: Interview (1971), Calcutta 71 (1972), Padatik (The Guerilla Fighter, 1973)

[7] Known collectively as the Calcutta trilogy, The Adversary (1970), Company Limited (1971) and The Middleman (1975) documented the radical changes Calcutta.

[8]  Translates to ‘Donating eyes’

[9] Translates to ‘Unknown Fort’

[10] Translates to ‘Listen, Wealthy Woman’

[11] Translates to ‘Illusory Fort’

[12] S. B. Productions

[13] Translates to ‘Night and Dawn’

Ratnottama Sengupta, formerly Arts Editor of The Times of India, teaches mass communication and film appreciation, curates film festivals and art exhibitions, and translates and write books. She has been a member of CBFC, served on the National Film Awards jury and has herself won a National Award. 

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International