#1 Guardian Angels

“Patjhar mein kuch patton ki
Girne ki aahat
kaanon main ek baar pahan ke laut aai thhi
patjhar kee vo saakh abhi tak kaanp rahi hai
vo saakh gira do, mera vo saamaan lauta do
………”
Missing them, missing Durgapur, missing childhood…..

#2 September 22, 2018

First Ultra Sonography of my life to detect the growth of the foetus inside me….my little one was ten weeks two days old then…my inner self instantly told me when the USG completed, ‘You are having a girl inside you, Parna, as, only a girl can be resilient to all the jumpings, runnings and hoppings and the 30 km cycling (during which you fell down three times) you did with her before knowing she was there, inside’…….

#3 Ishita’s Prediction

At one of our classroom ‘adda’ sessions during +2 level, my good friend, Ishita, suggested me to take up English or Bangla as my Honours subject when I would go to college. Much to my surprise, she was convinced that I am good in both the language subjects and sounded quite sure when she spoke about it. Later, I took up Geography, my favourite subject, without caring about her suggestions and moved on in my life with it. Recently when I started documenting my memories for the fear of completely forgetting about them with every passing time, I discovered that I had always loved to play around with English as well as Bangla. There was a late realisation that I must have took up any of these two subjects for my higher studies. But, if I had done that, was there a guarantee that I would have loved to write in these two languages, as I do now? Who’s there to tell?
Thanks Ishita for suggesting then, if only I would have listened to you, I might have found my real calling, long back, who knows? How could you be so sure about it, then? I continue to wonder…

#4 Being a celebrity as a child

Saraswati Puja was also about enjoying a rare celebrity status in the school where my mother taught. As my school never observed Saraswati Puja and declared a holiday on that day, every year, I used to visit my mother’s school. Her students would stand at a distance and whisper, “pssst….look at her, she is Shyamalidi’s daughter…” and so on. Well, this rare recognition was not only reserved for me, there were other teacher kids also.
But why they did so, I fail to fathom still now….😂🤔

#5 So-called Academic Failure (1)

When I come to know about young school students contemplating suicide, my mind races back to my school days, the time when I consistently failed in Maths and Chemistry in every term exam save the Annual Terms.

Once, I managed to secure only 17 out of 100 in Maths (2nd Paper) and 13 out of 100 in Chemistry. On bringing the answer scripts home, my brother quickly calculated the marks and remarked, ‘Don’t you think you should frame the answer scripts this time? Perfect scores! We can laugh about these scores later in our lives.’ And yes, I am laughing now. I feel grateful to my parents, specially Baba and my brother to make me realise that there’s a life to live beyond everything and life is certainly not meant to brood about Tests, Marks, Failures or Standing Firsts in competitions.

#6 So-called Academic Failure (2)

40×3=120. The magic number 120 haunted me from class 7 through class 10. This particular score was the prerequisite to get promoted to the next class. The deal was to get pass mark 40 in all the three terminal examinations in all the subjects. Now, as I told you in my previous post that I usually failed in Maths and Chemistry with record marks, the 120 became elusive in the final term as I needed to score a whopping 80 or 70 or at times more than 100 to get through. A difficult and improbable task indeed for a person who could barely manage 13s or 17s in other two terms.
In one occasion, I got to know that people are promoted under consideration if they fail to get the gross total 120 in 2 subjects but secure decent marks in others. That information was indeed a saviour. When I saw it was near impossible to get a 120 in Chemistry or Maths, I used to let go of trying and concentrated in my comparatively stronger territory comprising of other subjects. 🤣

P.S: The write-up is dedicated to my bench partner Rakhi and friend in crime Sunita as they broke the news of 2 subjects and 120 funda to me, back then.

#7 Rathayatra

Baba never forgot to bring ‘Papad Bhaja’ and ‘Jilipi’ from ‘Mamra Bazar Rath er Mela’. To him these two food items were synonymous with ‘Rathayatra’.
‘Baba, please don’t bring these oily bhajas again. We can make them at home, Can’t we?Bring only Jilipis.’ I used to warn.
Alas! Now I miss them so dearly! I have not tasted a better ‘Jilipi’ since I left Durgapur.

#8 Maa

My friends who read my posts regularly might wonder why I write less about my Maa…they had been reading about my father a lot.
I cannot write about her. A guilt wells up in my throat whenever I think about writing on her. I could never be the daughter she had hoped me to be.
I couldn’t come to her when she missed me as I stayed out of Kolkata. She had hoped that I would grow up to be a multitasker like her but I am a lazy daydreaming sloth….I could never be like her…I don’t aspire to be…if only I could stay with her during her last days…………

#9 Black Diamond Kulfiwala

There was a kulfiwala, a daily hawker in the Black Diamond Express, from whom we used to buy ‘pista kulfi’ on our way back to Kolkata, every week or every fortnight. As the kulfi melted in our mouths, we eagerly waited the train to cross ‘Howluah’ (the midway halt between Howrah and Liluah stations). The kulfi business was a seasonal one, however, as he chose to sell ‘Ghughni’ maybe due to larger demand of spicy food during winter months.
I haven’t tasted that ‘pista kulfi’ for years now. I yearn for it, but, there’s no way way back. I wish to believe that the person still sells ‘pista kulfi’ in the same train….I wish to believe that some day I will get to taste that heavenly kulfi, once again.

#10 Watching cricket with Baba (1)

As we used to sit down for watching Tendulkar’s batting, my Baba would always be there for a reality check. His comments during all the India matches were as following:
“Tendulkar out holei line lege jabey.” (Once Tendulkar’s out, others will follow suit.)
“Tendulkar bat ta thikthak Korte parche na, ato chap dile hoy?” (Tendulkar’s not able to play under pressure.)
“Tendulkar bat korlei to holo na, bowling ta to paate debar moto noy.” (The bowling of Indian team is not upto the mark, so Tendulkar’s batting cannot help.)
Sometimes we laughed, but most of the times we used to get angry and scream out, “Baba, are you supporting the other team and not India?”
He didn’t answer ever.
Maybe, he wanted to make us realise the fact that wins and losses never matter.
Yesterday, I sat to watch the only match of this world cup, for, I have stopped following cricket after Tendulkar retired.
…Hoping against hope for a helicopter shot and Dhoni becoming the saviour of the day…….things started looking bright with the Jadeja and Dhoni combination. I reminisced my cricket watching years when we earnestly wished for Indian wins.
I missed the presence of my father, I could almost hear him say this time in my ears, “Aka Dhoni ki korbe? Bhulbhal strategy joto.” (How would Dhoni help if the top order tumbled down due to a wrong strategy?)
Maybe, I will stop watching cricket now, as, I have already seen Dhoni playing probably his last match.

#11 Watching cricket with Baba(2)

One last bit from the 90s cricket memories just before tomorrow’s World Cup cricket final:

Arjuna Ranatunga and Arvind D’Silva’s partnership in the 22 yards was one of the most formidable one, according to my father. He, in fact, loved to watch them play together. When we used to rule out Sri Lanka’s chances of winning matches (specially the run-chasing matches) if the 3 batsmen of the top order (as far as I remember, – Sanath Jayasuriya, Ramesh Kaluwitharana, Hasan Tilakaratne) failed, he would remark, “Just wait and watch, my dear, Ranatunga is arriving.”

That burly fellow appeared the fittest in the crease as he stole a run or two against each ball delivered. The strike always rotated and he allowed D’Silva to score a boundary, or a sixer if the latter felt like. My father would occasionally say to learn a thing or two from Ranatunga’s patience and tenacity. We laughed about his comments then, as he said them in his signature teasing and funny gestures, but now, when we look back, we come to realise the truth in every word he said.

The lesson he wanted to give us was to never take our opponents lightly however unfit or incapable they might seem like.

#12 Hockey Stick and community service

My father bought me a hockey stick, albeit reluctantly, because I cried for a cricket bat like my brother. He knew his daughter well. He knew that this demand is just a child’s fancy, it will pass. He had studied me and realised that this lazy, bookworm kid will never run with a hockey stick. So what made him buy the stick?
Let me tell you the various uses of that hockey stick first:
– It acted as a bat for the non-striking batsmen of our para cricket (not many could afford actual cricket bat in those days)
– It was used to scare away rats, moles, snakes, cats and dogs
– It acted as a weapon to scare away the street urchins who came to steal mangoes from our mango trees.
– My mother scared me with the hockey stick if I made silly mistakes (which was my forte) while solving maths problems.
– Lastly, it helped the dusting and mopping clothes to reach the corners under our bed for deep cleaning.
My father was a forethinker, his predictions always matched. So, now you know yourselves, why he bought me a hockey stick? He didn’t buy for me actually, he bought it for community service!! 🤣🤣

#13 Bookworm

The rains bring back memories of reading Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Three Investigators, Enid Blyton adventure series and Enid Blyton school stories under the bed with a torch in hand during the nightfall when parents were busy with their evening tea. The pages were turned out fast with the aim of finishing the reading before they came in to check whether their daughter is studying or not.
The pressing need to finish reading storybooks fast developed the skill of reading a page within a couple of minutes. The skill needs a polishing though in recent times.

#14 The Family Ordeal 1992

It was a wintry morning. My Baba and his colleague had met with a near fatal accident as Baba’s scooter was hit by a trekker jeep. Chakraborty kaku could save himself from a greater injury as he was riding pillion but Baba fractured one of his legs. Both of their heads were saved because they had kept them covered with helmets. As Chakraborty kaku told us later, Baba’s fractured bones, leg muscles and skin was literally appearing like a canvas tarpaulin dangling from a bamboo structured half done pandal. Suppressing his pain Baba alone looked around for help because Chakraborty kaku was so shocked that he went dumb for the time being.

In those days when telephone was still an alien concept to the small towners like us, we got the news later when Baba was already in the surgery table. I recall the scene when I saw Baba smiling to me with the plastered leg. His smile was to assure us that there was nothing to worry. But, deep inside our hearts we knew that the opposite was true. He took about 2 years to heal completely, the iron plate with 8 screws remained inside his injured leg permanently. As his initial fractures begun to heal, he, unfortunately, fractured the healing bone again as the iron plate broke accidentally. For 17 months he couldn’t go to his office and thus didn’t drew any salary (the accident occurred during office hours but out of office premises so he wasn’t eligible for any compensation. A company policy in those years). My mother kept our family together while Baba recuperated. It was difficult for a sole breadwinner to keep everything from falling apart (we studied in convent schools and attended a few hobby classes after school which made things expensive), but, we went on.

We learnt the value of money in a hard way in those tender years. In those months, I had seen Baba going to office in a cycle van and then in a cycle rickshaw. Those vehicles gave him the freedom to keep his plastered leg and crutches in a comfortable position. I had seen him wear loose pajamas and kurtas with a formal swag (he couldn’t wear trousers because of the plaster).

In those months, I had experienced the nature of a steel-like will power. He, like a true hero, fought his way to return to his old life of work, home, gardening, tea mugs and books.

#15 A Wrong turn and overconfidence

Baba had his own reasons behind insisting me to take admission in the evening shift of a college. A few of them were, – I would face less traffic jams in a city like Kolkata; there were lesser chances of boarding crowded buses while commuting to college; I would be more focused into studies; I can enjoy my morning tea and afternoon siesta and maybe a few more which I don’t know of.

I was a happy going studious college kid. The aroma of Kolkata mesmerized me, the neon lighted panorama of the city dazed me initially. I could feel my wings coming out gradually until an incident clipped them off.

So, a couple of months after the classes started, I was over confident about the various directions to my rented home from my college. I claimed to know all the bus routes and bragged about them. One evening while returning I was waiting for the bus to home at Rashbehari crossing. The usual 1A bus was plying less that day. The wristwatch showed 9 PM. I was getting late.

At that moment, I saw a 1B bus pulling over. I was excited to jump into it. I never travelled in that bus before but was pretty sure about seeing it in the same route of 1A. The conductor asked me about my destination. I handed him a 4 Rupees change and announced ‘Santoshpur’. The bus took a right turn and ran fast. After sometime I realised that the usual sights which I observe on my way home had changed. I couldn’t see the Prince Anwar Shah Masjid, the usual metro stations, usual signboards and usual shops. I grew apprehensive. Where was this bus taking me? Nervously, I glanced at my wristwatch. The needles showed 10 PM. On asking, the conductor replied me that the bus was headed off to Budge Budge and he thought I was going to the Santoshpur which was near Budge Budge. He asked the driver to pull over and advised me to cross the road and take any Jadavpur 8B bound bus and a following auto-rickshaw to reach home. The street lights of that place were quite dim. A few co passengers and the conductor pleaded me to walk fast as according to them the place wasn’t safe at the later hours of night.

Suddenly, I saw the desired Jadavpur bound bus coming from the other side. I halted the bus and boarded it. Until the bus moved, the 1B bus stayed put. Maybe that bus staff and the passengers wanted to ensure that the innocent college kid was safe inside the bus she took to home.

By the time I hopped in an autorickshaw, it was 10:45 PM. I worried about my parents. In those days there was no mobile phones. All we had were landlines. When the vehicle dropped me at my stoppage, I literally ran home. The neighbourhood shops were closing down for the day. The local eatery was serving it’s last guests for the day. Maa opened the door. I was heavily panting. Baba was still wondering whom to call next. All my friends had reached their homes by then and assured them that they had seen me boarding 1B bus and since it had a long winding route, it might take some time for me to reach home.

On seeing me, they looked relieved. Warm food was served and we ate together at 11:30 PM that day. I won’t forget what my parents said that day. They said, “It’s good to do a mistake and learn. We wish you to do more mistakes in future. Hope you have learned that being overconfident is perilous, albeit in a hard way.”

#16 Simple Living, High Thinking

My mother said once that she learnt from my Boro pishi (father’s sister) that he owned only a pair of trousers and a shirt during his studenthood. He used to wrap around a Gamcha when he washed his clothes and continued wearing it until they dried. My mother made sure that he owned more pairs of clothes later in his life and requested us to follow her suit when we started to earn. While he worked in Usha Factory as an intern, he preferred spending the larger part of his remuneration in buying books. Infact, throughout his life, he continued doing so. We could never boast of new, fashionable clothes, golden jewellery, colour TV, High end Audio system, but, we were proud of our folded crockery rack cum dining table which hung from one of the walls, our weekly baked goodies from the automatic cake oven, black tea made in English style, and our large book rack. He had got the idea of the dining table I mentioned, from a Russian story book. Recently, one of my cousin brother mentioned me that he thought my father to be the most erudite and cultured person of our family. I do agree with what he said. Along with that, he was the most disciplined person I have ever met in my life. He could even discipline his anger by moving away from the cause momentarily to calm himself. We knew that Baba was angry with us when he went out of the house with his cycle without scolding or bashing us and came back only when he had thoroughly calmed himself. He led a simple life with a nose for good tea leaves and good books. Today, on his 77th birthday, I bow down to him, thanking him for all the lessons he gave us through his lifestyle and advices. Happy Birthday, Baba.

#17 War Veteran Out From Surgery

I felt like a war veteran while coming back to my house today from a local hospital. A two-time surgery returned. A total of one large and four small incisions upon my tummy. The larger one healed and the newer four yet to be healed. You know, I had my own sweet ‘Jatayu moment’ last Saturday as I was being given the general anaesthesia. Hope all my fellow bongs remember the ‘knife throwing scene’ from the film ‘Joy Baba Felunath’. In that scene, Jatayu, the writer friend of Feluda, stood straight with his back fixed on a wooden plank while the knife thrower Arjun was showing his excellence with the target. As I was asked by my surgeon to spread out my hands, legs, and lie down straight, I wanted to ask him in the Jatayu way, ‘Ki diyechilen bolun to moshai Saline tay, gaaye odbhut bol pachhi, odbhut!’ before I went unconscious. Alas! I couldn’t. I slept without knowing the time and the moment the scalpel cut through to take out the Gallbladder containing more than 35 stones. 😃😃

#18 One Tight Slap

Our Physics teacher, Mrs. Biswas, or Biswas Miss, as we called her used to threaten us by saying, “One tight slap I’ll give you and throw you out of the window”, if any of us was caught doing any mischief or silly mistakes while she taught. The version changed to “One tight slap I’ll give you and throw you out of the school” if we did the same in the Physics laboratory. The frequency in which the threat was given didn’t transcend to actual action on most of the occasions because she was a kind-hearted lady which she didn’t want us to realise then. I was fortunate enough to avoid the ‘one tight slap’ given my track record of ‘barely managing to pass in Physics exams and doing silly mistakes while doing Force & Work sums’.

My mother used to threaten me about the same when she got angry on my academic performances but never slapped. My private tutor used to throw away my notebooks while threatening me about ‘the one tight slap’ but never gave one. The very thought of getting that ‘one tight slap’ scared me throughout my school days, college days, university days until I finally got one from one of the most unexpected sources.

Back in 2014-15 I was studying in a B.Ed College in Giridih. The ‘practice teaching’ days were approaching nearby. We were quite worked up on all the proceedings of the exhaustive B.Ed course (those who have passed B.Ed knows the agony). One day I was having an argument with a classmate called Monalisha (thankfully she is not in my Facebook friendlist) about an issue I have forgotten. As far as I remember, I was defending my course of argument with some hard logical facts. Infact, I had to argue in that occasion otherwise people who know me know well that I avoid arguments. Suddenly, she raised her hand and slapped me. Oh! What a ‘one tight slap’ it was! The slap was to stop me from arguing further. I left the classroom and came out. A few of the other classmates encouraged me to return the slap on her face but I refused. I remembered saying, “My school, my family had not taught me to return a slap with a slap. I will answer her if life allows me, otherwise won’t.”

I was pretty shocked after this incident. Whatever little education I had managed to achieve and my conscience questioned life about the occurrence of this incident. Avik, however, was not surprised. He said, “Don’t forget that you are in Giridih, Jharkhand. You cannot argue logically with any uneducated fool. Gear up! You need to answer her through your performance.”

I threw away my lackadaisical, happy-go-lucky garb. I studied really hard. I haven’t studied that hard during my school, my college or university years. The hard work paid. I stood second in the final B.Ed exams in my college, much ahead in rank compared to Monalisha. As Nitu, my friend from the B.Ed College, called me to announce my marks, we both had a hearty laugh on that slap incident and exclaimed, “Let bygones be bygones!”

#19 Taalashtami

আমার নাস্তিক বাবার কাছে যে কোন ধর্মীয় অনুষ্ঠান হয়ে উঠত খাদ‍্যোৎসব। বাবা খেতে ও খাওয়াতে ভালবাসতেন। জন্মাষ্টমীর সময় খুঁজে পেতে তাল কিনে আনতেন। আমার দাদু ও মাসিদের কল‍্যাণে বাড়িতে নারকেলের জোগান সর্বদাই থাকত। বেতের ঝুড়ির সাহায‍্যে তাল ছেঁচে ক্বাথ বের করে অল্প চুন মেশাতে মেশাতে বলতেন, “তালের তেতো ভাব কাটিয়ে দিচ্ছি, বুঝলি।” নারকেল কুড়িয়ে রেখে মায়ের কাছে আবদার করতেন, “কৈ গো, এ বছর তালের কিছু করবে না?” মা কপট রাগ দেখিয়ে বলতেন, “যাও তো, অত আর পারি না। নিজেরা কর।” বলতেন বটে, কিন্তু মা নিজেই পড়ন্ত দুপুরে মাঝারি লোহার কড়াইটা বসাতেন গ‍্যাস ওভেনে। তালের বড়ার সুবাসে আনচান করে উঠত মনটা। তারপর তালের লুচি ভাজা হত ও ভাজতে ভাজতেই আরেক দিকে তালের ক্ষীর নিভু আঁচে তৈরি হত। আমরাও গুটি গুটি পড়া ফেলে রান্নাঘরে গিয়ে জুটতাম, টুপটাপ মুখে ফেলতাম তালের বড়া। রাতে খাবারের পাতে তালের লুচি দিয়ে তালের ক্ষীর খেতে খেতে মনে হত স্বর্গ বোধহয় সেখানেই।
দিন চলে যায়। সেই সুবাসের স্মৃতি ফিরে আসে, সুবাস ফেরে না।

(Continues…….)