Ink and memories: Revisiting the 'Anandamela' days
As I sit to reminisce about my childhood reading days, I recall the crisp pages within the vibrant binding and the smell of the glossy children's magazines. Among the countless titles of magazines, Anandamela used to sound like comfort. As the issues were published from West Bengal, it was slightly uncertain when I would be having the next copy. I always remained in an absurd fear of "what if they don't bring the copies anymore!"
I remember the restless weeks and months of waiting for the next issue of Anandamela bringing the joy of reading new short stories, serialised novels, poems, and puzzles. Anandamela magazine has been a charming source of absolute delight to devour the taste of wonderfully curated literary pieces. My childhood and my reading habits got entwined with the foreign publication, which embraced me with open arms.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. 
To collect the issues of the West Bengal magazine was certainly not simple, rather each copy I ever owned was a triumph of my tireless determination of searching the latest copy among the roadside book stalls of Nilkhet. As a juvenile bibliophile, I used to see the copies as a delicate object greeting with utter care and affection. Occasionally, some ancient copies from the 80s or 90s would appear in the pile of books on Nilkhet footpath and those copies used to feel like a pirate loot which I, a vicious pirate, extracted from the ocean of literature.
Anandamela used to be a gold-paved pathway for the young readers for exploring the realm of literature since 1975, the first publication year of the literary journal. It came with each possible branch of literature. From the strings of history to unravelling mystery, whimsical comic strips to nail-biting thrillers, from spine-tingling horror to cosy fairy tales, everything was presented to the young readers within 70 pages of ecstasy. It also included paintings, articles, biographies, letters, and everything a classic Bengali reader can think of.
The magnetic appeal of the beautiful pages, crafted my reading habit since my toddler days. Back in the day when thick books with hard covers were just "boroder boi" for me, Anandamela offered me the pleasure of reading the luminary authors of Bangla literature. The beautiful illustrations and stories throughout the copy and the text written on the coloured paper were captivating enough for the 90s kids to read the stories and novels of writers like Satyajit Ray, Sunil Ganguli, Premendra Mitra, Samaresh Majumdar, and Bimal Kar. Some recent copies included Pandab Goenda, a classic children's detective series by Sasthipada Chattopadhyay. To this day, the magazine republishes classic pieces to introduce the children with the best creations and for the old readers to rediscover the joy of reading the masterpieces.
The magazine also serialised global hit comics like The Adventures of Tintin. Asterix and Obelisk, Archie comics and even Batman in Bangla, making the literature written in English accessible to the children of Bengal. Collecting the comic cutouts from different issues and assembling those as a whole comic, was a self-assigned task which I did passionately, until the rush of life approached and grasped the desperate reader in me.
Through the passage of time, the embrace of my magazine pages got replaced with tedious device screens and monotonous daily routines. My attachment with cheap copies of the magazine was altered by fancy bookstores, and my rereading the same pages repeatedly turned into stockpiling unread, untouched books. Recently, when I discovered a thoughtful archive of old versions of Bangla magazines on the digital platform Dhulokhela, I was elated. Along with Anandamela, I found a treasure of hundreds of magazines, carefully compiled for seekers of timeless euphoria.
Anandamela remains to be an escape for children of all ages through the power of teleportation into the realm of imagination. To me, it is more than just a magazine—it is a sanctuary, a relief, a way to break free the barriers of reality. The publishers deserve all my gratitude for introducing me to the evergreen world of literature, and for the nostalgia as I write this.
I miss reading Anandamela. I lament my inability to turn back time and read Anandamela as a child, all over again.
Dola Saha is a final year student at BRAC University.
Comments