It was the day before yesterday. I did not sleep the
entire night for reasons best unknown to me. So I would not call this a dream.
I saw a mug full of water. I saw a handful of tea-leaves.
Tea-leaves floated in the cold water. Introduction. Beginning
of their friendship.
Someone placed the mug on the stove, heated the water. Tea-leaves kept swimming. As it swam, it spread its colours in the ripples of the water. Water
transformed from a colourless fluid into golden brown liquor. By that time, the
friendship had stepped into its next level.
Water hugged tea-leaves. “If I had to choose one word to
describe you, guess what that word would be?”, whispered water. Tea-leaves
blushed, infusing a brighter hue into water. “Colour! Yes, that’s exactly what
you mean to me.”
Tea-leaves happily bathed in her new found love. Water
could not remember the last time he was this
happy.
Then came a moment when the tea-leaves had to be
strained. She refused to leave her lover.
Water scolded her. “You are not going anywhere. You can
always return to me. We both need our personal spaces. We can be together
again.“
Tea-leaves knew that there was no coming back. She will
be dumped into the trash bin and the very next morning she will disappear into
oblivion.
It was the first time they fought. At the end of the
fight, Water told tea-leaves, “They wanted to strain you. You strained the
entire relationship.”
Tea-leaves left. All she wanted to tell him was, “You
can survive alone. You have so many things to engage yourself. When the heat
dies, you can be made into ice-tea with a dash of lemon or blended with alcohol
to shape a tall glass of Long Island iced tea. So much to do!! What will happen
to me? Like they say, water if life. You
are my life. You are my personal space.”
Brown drops of tears rolled down her cheeks.
The golden brown liquid was poured in a white porcelain
cup. Tea-leaves found her place in the waste bin.
She thought and thought, but could not come up with a
single activity which can make her find her “own space” or be on her own.
Next morning, she saw all her neighbours been thrown
into the garbage truck. She was scooped out of the bin and kept in a saucer.
Her body immersed in the softness of the kitchen
garden. With a tiny shovel, the gardener blended her with the mud and sowed
seeds. (He also poured water. And, no it was not the one she loved. They looked
alike, but this was not her lover.)
Days passed. Small families of green leaves started
unfolding from the plant. Tea-leaves looked up proudly. She remembered her own
family…two parent-leaves guarding the child-bud. “They are my family too”, she
smiled.
For the first time in her life, she realised that she
was not useless. She could make a world of her own. What a happy feeling it
was.
**************************
Happy feelings don’t always put you to sleep. I was lying wide awake. “O rangrez” played on repeat mode on my cell phone. ‘O rangrez, tere raang dariya mein, Doobna
hein baas tera banke…nahi rehna dooja banke…Ek bhi saans alag nahin leni,
Khench lena pran is taan ke….Nahin rehna dooja banke..’ . Tea-leaves must
have thought likewise. :)
This song also reminded me of a conversation overheard.
She: “Biyer por amader prothom gari konta hobe?” (What
will be our first car?)
He: “Cycle”
She: “What??”
He: “I want to smell your shoulders, your neck and your
hair while I drive.”
She: “OK”.
*********************************
But then the night had to be spent. The only thing that
could be done in the dark was to listen to music, listen to the rains and watch the
fire flies sticking on the window pane, surf Facebook from the phone or flip
through the photos I have clicked in the past one year with the obnoxious phone
camera. I chose the first, second and the fourth option. Happy thoughts flooded in. At the end of the
night, I was glad that I did not sleep. A year full of memories outweighed a
night full of sleep. What a happy feeling it was!
I have saved my best pictures from a collection of
thousands, transferred them to my computer and kept them in a folder on my
desktop, so that whenever I feel low I can open the Pandora’s box and execute a
quick treasure hunt.
Sub
folder 1: Bari
I clicked this picture while coming back from the
Company Law Board. I was amazed at the grandeur of the building. You know, it
had a fire place! (I wondered why? Was Calcutta ever that cold?)
Like many Calcuttans, I am an ardent believer of “the
most beautiful buildings in Calcutta were made by the British.” See.
What I loved most about this building was its windows. Yes,
someday when I have loads of money in my pocket, I shall own windows like
these. Windows so tall!! I would keep them open on rainy days.
The ceiling belongs to the top most floor of our office
building. It is been renovated and made into a swanky office space. I captured
the reminiscence.
During sleeplessness, I envy people who have ceilings
like these. Atleast they can count the ‘korikathh’
and kill time.
This picture is from last December. Picnic at
Batanagar, on the banks of the river. This lone structure stood lifeless. Then,
plants grew from its walls. A small canopy of leaves provided it shade and
solace. The plants also gave it life and made a happy picture like this. Yes, I
am in love with this one. For known and unknown reasons. 
We were doing a Due-D (due diligence and compliance)
for a client at their office. One of the windows opened to this. This is the
building right next to YMCA in the New Market area. It was winter. I wondered whether
winter ever left this building. I wondered why the sun never chose to slip through
the broken walls.
I wished I had a shawl to wrap it up. “Nishchoi khub thhanda lagche becharar”,
my mind kept on telling me. I have never felt this for any other building.
The same client’s office had a lift. I remember how
excited I was when I rode the first capsule lift. Metro Plaza…many years ago.
Then it was Sriram Archade.
This is a primitive version of capsule lift. A hundred
year old. Exquisite!
Sub
folder 2: Baper bari
My room. When I got married, I thought I would miss my
bed the most (among the non-human elements). No, I didn’t. I missed the walls.
Every time I visit Ma’s place, I take random pictures of the walls. My bed
stands right next to a wall. I sniff. I smell. I inhale. The odour of the
walls.
P.S: It was the first day at my in-laws. ‘Kaalratri’ (the night you get to sleep
with sisters-in-law and prevented from seeing the face of the husband). I woke
up in the morning and the first thing that caught my sight was the wall. It had
the same shade of custard-yellow as my bedroom. I was so happy. Then I looked
again. The curtains were different. So was the smell of the walls. I started
crying uncontrollably. This is not the room I belonged to. I missed everything
that belonged to my ‘baper bari’.
The sister-in-law stared, mouth wide open. To divert
the embarrassment, I asked her “Ekhon ki
toder bari shuddho lok-ke chaa kore khawate hobe? Cinemay jerom dekhhay?” (Do
I have to make tea and serve your entire family, right now? Like they show in
movies?)
To this she exclaimed, “NA NA. Ema cha korte hobe bhebe tui knadchish?” (No. You don’t have
to. Are you crying contemplating that you have to make tea?)
This is an old photograph recaptured by my phone
camera. When a person bids his/her final adieu, people excavate old photographs
from old wooden cupboards and old steel trunks and frame them for his/her last
rites. This photograph is of my paternal grand mom’s. Isn’t she beautiful? I
wish I inherited an ounce of her looks. Never mind. Her son did. For me, he is
the most handsome man on this blue planet.
P.S: Every time I visit ‘baaper bari, I miss her a lot. I never thought I would. But I do.
The little boy who will turn 24 in the very next month.
The boy who plays the guitar, though seen here, playing the harmonium. This
picture reminded me of one of his earliest Guitar-lessons. “What have you
learnt today?” Ma asked him. His reply: Haato
aur chaalo tum. “What kind of a song is that?”, Ma said in disbelief. She
took his note book and saw the musical notations of “Hothon se chulo tum”. : )The boy also keeps on telling me, “You are hot! And, I, for sure, am adopted.”
Phajil!
Sub
folder 3: Baranda
I am in love with balconies. The photographs in my
camera’s picture-folder reaffirm that.
This was the view from my sister-in-law’s balcony. Andheri.
Bombay. August, 2012.
P.S: I love Bombay rains. Absolutely love them. Also,
this is my best-picturised rain song. All time favourite.
This is a building on Rabindra Sarani. I crossed
Nakhoda Masjid and was moving towards Kumartuli on a September afternoon last
year. The number of balconies caught my jaw-dropping attention. So many of
them. Long and tiny. Beauties.
Quiz: How many balconies can you find in the picture?
Trivia: There is a beautiful white house on Allenby Road,
opposite Fab India (lane opposite Forum Mall). Please check that out. It is
beautiful and it has countless balconies. Sadly, my phone had run out of
battery when I crossed it.
The balcony of my parents’ house overlooking the rain-washed
street. Can you see it? What you cannot see however, is the sea of memories it
stores. The cylindrically folded morning newspaper, throwing paper boats and
paper airplanes into the waterlogged street, chatting with the neighbour, calling
for the jhalmuri-wala or the ice cream vendor, a part of the balcony
transformed into study, Ma waving good bye as I left for school, her caution message:
“If you are putting washed UGs for drying in the verandah, please make sure you
are covering them with a big towel” and the list is endless. : )
This belonged to the same building next to YMCA. It had
made me sad. Very sad. I am happy I clicked it. Life is not only about “all
things bright and beautiful”…
One of the prettiest balconies I have laid my eyes on.
This is opposite Dakshini music school in Deshapriya Park. Isn’t it lovely? See
the potted plants. So pretty!
Sub
folder 4: Khawa-dawa
I don’t get to see these too often. Hence saved this on
the phone.
People on my Facebook friend’s list have seen this. One
morning, when asked for tea from the cha-wala, the young boy places two cups of
tea on my desk. To my question “Why two?”, his answer was, “Din ka pehla chai
hein. Aur, cups ajkal chote ho gaye hein. Meine socha didi ka maan nahi
bharega'....Happiness is reading your mind when you expected the least. And
double happiness is placing THE favourite biscuit from an assortment of 10
(without being asked for). My day was made.
Porota and egg curry. 11, Old Post Office Street,
Kolkata – 700 001. Soul food. If you are feeling low, try these. (Even a
picture like this is good enough).
I love these. Gujia (No idea what the English translation would be like). It is different, hence the picture. It is bigger than normal Gujia and tastes heavenly.
I had clicked this photograph and Whatssapped it to
friend. “Tell me the name of the sweet shop”, I wrote. He replied, “Deshobondhu?” *Respect*
Ma used to make fruit juice for us when we were
children. Dimma (my maternal grandma) had the same thing made of transparent glass.
I don’t get to see these too often. Hence saved this on
the phone.
Sub
folder 5: Lekha-lekhi
The book. Gifted by my cousins after I passed Class 10
Board exams. Found it among old books. One of them is a published author now.
An adequately famous one. The day he becomes insanely famous, I shall sell this
book for lakhs of INR. (You tall windows, wait!! The day is not too far)
A very old Court order belonging to the year 1926. In
the High Court of Judicature at Form William in Bengal. Feeling of goose bumps
for no reasons at all.
A note I saved from Facebook. The greatest dream I ever
dreamt. The greatest dream ‘Victoriar
pori’ dreamt too.
My office type writer. I love it. With all my might.
Again, for reasons unknown.
Chandrakanta’s art. The young man, who carries briefs
and files to the Court, brings tea and ‘tiffin’ for us also paints. This is a
photocopy of an original piece made by him using, mind you, using a ball-point
pen. No erasers. No edits. (Source: A very small Shiva Wallpaper from a very
basic Nokia phone-screen).
Sub
folder 6: Phool
This is one of my favourite flowers. Also, THE most
favourite female character from Bengali novels.
Chnapa phool. Champa
flower. Bought the bunch from Park Street. They usually sell roses at the
traffic signals. Apparently those roses are confiscated from Park Street Cemetery.
I wondered if these too were picked up from someone’s grave. If they were, I
love that person who had put chnapa
flowers instead of roses on his/her beloved’s grave. Thoughtful and romantic.
Sub
folder 7: Happy feet, angry palm
I found this picture. And remembered someone saying, “Parama
di, you are one of those rare people who can find happiness even in a pair of
bright socks.” You were right, dear. See, I did.
Shadows on the sand. Also, a favourite quote I want to
share…"Because there’s nothing more
beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no
matter how many times it’s sent away.”
*Spoiler alert* I learnt a new sign language that day. “Read
between the lines”. I loved it.
Sub
folder 8: Shohor
A walk in the clouds. Your city looking up to you.
Sub
folder 9: Brishti
The window near my office desk. On days like these, it will not let you work.
I would walk up to it and write “P”. The one who sits
next to me will walk up to it, draw a reverse “C” and make the P a “B”. That
would bring me back to reality. X(
This was taken a few days before Rituporno Ghosh had
expired. This somehow reminded me of this beautiful song from Memories in March.
No idea why.
Football match on rain-soaked mud. The only football
match I watched in its entirety. Till date. That explains.
This image was sent to me via WA by a friend. The
terrace after it had stopped raining. How I love this one! Sreya, your terrace!
This image too is lifted from Facebook. It was my cell
phone wallpaper for days. One of the best pictures of Kolkata monsoon. Whoever
has clicked this, my heartfelt thanks. This is magic!
On that note, happy rains, everyone.
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