It is so strange that you never seem to forget the places you have spent some of the best times of your life. I studied in a school that did not have its own building. The school was housed in a rented building and was almost too small for all the students. I still remember the packed classrooms and the general din of the voices like a huge bee in its flight. We then moved into our very own school building in Joka when I was in class 7. I have wondered so many a times about how my school would look today after almost 13 years.
Everything seems changed when you visit after a long time and it is inexplicable how you feel about the place. A strange longing for the past mixed with the images that once seemed so life size, makes you nostalgic. I remember I visited the old school building once on my way to a friend's place and memories of my schooldays flooded back. I was amazed to see the pine tree that made a good hiding place during the recess hours' play of hide and seek. The beatlenut trees that lined the boundary walls made me think of the days when a ripe beatle nut from one of those trees would have been a prized possesion, for it made up a good subtitute for a cricket ball! We played with wooden rulers, brandishing them as bats.... Oh! what days they were...
But somehow the dimensions of the building seemed too small for the world we had seen inside it. It felt kind of strange. The building looked small, the colours have faded and many more buildings have come up around the school where we used to have our games class. The vegetation seemed to have changed too. I get these feelings and abstract thoughts every time I went back to some place that held some pleasant memories for me. A sort of alienation and a non-belong-ness keeps lurking in the thoughts as if to say you will no longer get those days back.
I am not sure if I am being very clear about what I really wanted to say but I am sure something like this happens to everyone. You think of the old times and almost before you realize you would be smiling.
I had stopped on my way and entered the old school building only to realize that the school is there no more. The occupants of the house eyed me with grave suspicion when I found it hard to explain what I was doing there inside the building compound standing beside the tube well that used to supply the whole school with cool drinking water, deep in thought. But eventually they must have realized that nothing was missing and they let me go. They even smiled when I told them the history of the tube well and how essential it was for us when we came back from a 6 a side football game during the monsoon
Thursday 29 March 2007
Another Short One
Manomita was unhappy. The dark clouds that had gathered from the evening reminded her of the distance that were between her happines and her misery. She remembered that day when the call had come... it was a dark December evening and the winds were chilly. She was returning home from college, IIM Ahmedabad and the phone rang. What followed next was a shameful episode that she could gladly forget but the fear had struck in her heart and she dreaded if it would ever leave her alone. She shuddered to think of it... How could he have known? How could a person sitting hundreds of kilometers away know of that? She was careful not to speak of it even in her dreams but... how?!
Sunil was very precise about it ... no beating round the bush, no small talk but a direct and confident accusation that made her heart skip a beat. She stopped her walk to lean on a parked car to steady herself from the growing empty feeling in her gut. Her voice was unsteady and she had no conviction in what she replied.... but how? who had been speaking? And when Sunil had declared with a finality that he was very disappointed and disconnected she knew she could never call him back. Before she knew she was crying and regretting every moment of the past. Someone passed by and stopped for a moment to see a girl in distress... shook his head and continued on his way... "What a sad world" he thought. What the person did not know was that the girl was not sorry for what has happened but for the fact that she had been careless.Manomita had been ulrta cautious since then. She kept her secrets well and to herself. She walked out of the imposing Building that housed one of the more prestigious Bank near the GPO and started walking briskly as the wind began to grow stronger and cooler dropping the temperature suddenly. She could sense the huge shower which was due and hastened towards the parking lot in the viscinity of the famous Lal Dighi...
Gautam Sinha was a small person, well built and a very good footballer. He had played football for his school in Ahmedabad and was considered to be the best defender of his class. He also have been very successful in interpersonal relationships and had a charm about him that made him a very likeable person to be with. His job for the State Bank Of India was a token of his immense talents as a sportsman and he played football for the Mohunbagan club. It was late in the afternoon when he had finished his day on the field and was going out of the club when the winds picked up. This was the obvious signs of the nor-wester that he has come to witness in this part of India. The temperature has already dropped and the sweltering humidity has suddenly been replaced with a cool dryness. The sky over the Eden Gardens looked pitch black and by the look of it the showers were due any moment. He paused, feeling uncertain about his immediate future plans of riding on his Motor bike home. He decided to take his chances knowing fully well riding in this weather would be very risky and recovering from an ankle injury it would worsen his chances for playing against the arch rivals East Bengal the following week.
Manomita made it to her car just when the first drops of rain hit the roads. She gathered her breath and stared at the hazy windscreen, the drops of water pouring now in splatters. The shower had not picked up yet. She started the car and drove out into the city road taking Outram Road and heading for the south. She passed the Indoor stadium on her right and negotiating the heavy rain which had already made the busy pedestrian infested roads clear of people. She approached the roundabout near the ferry services all the while thinking of the day when she had met...Bang!
The car swerved at the roundabout and skidded off the road and onto the pavement hit a pedestrian and rolled over.The pillion driver who was at the roundabout skidded to avoid the collision and the rider was thrown over... rolled a couple of times and lay still just off the pavement. There was a sudden flare of activity. men came rushing over from the shelters and a bus screeched to a halt.
Manomita could hardly move when she felt gands groping at her... people were shouting and she felt herself pulled out of the car onto the pavement. She regained her senses as the rain hit her face drenching her. Somebody asked whether she could move and she mumbled a faint yes. She tried to sit and then painfully stand up. Hands supported her and she realized that she had a stinging pain in her chest and leg. She could remember faintly the last few moments when she watched in horror as ther car hit a pedistrian. She looked around with an urgency trying to figure out what had happened... then she saw him!
Sunil was being carried away in a waiting taxi blood dripping from his shirt and head. Manomita could not move for what seemed to be an eternity. Then she saw something else... Another man was being carried into another waiting taxi and she faintly remembered the face. She almost stood there shocked! the face came back to her as a flash of lightning tore the sky. She forgot her pain and almost in a trance moved forward and fell unconcious.
Four weeks later when she joined office she was greeted with flowers on her desk. There were a buch of cards and a gathering of colleagues. Hasan the accountant stood there with a twinkle in his eyes which she at once realized... it was a twinkle she had seen many times before and she felt a sudden rush of blood in her face. She thanked everyone for their well wishes and smiled back at Hasan. Lunch was not long and she agreed to have it with him.
Finally when everything had settled down she thought of the incident. Sunil had succumbed to his injuries and was declared Brought Dead at the SSKM. The pillion driver, Gautam... had a head and spinal chord injury and was in a coma. Police had been very helpful. Her front left tyre had burst and they understood that she could have done nothing to prevent what had happened... But deep down Manomita felt a relief... her secret is safe.
Sunil was very precise about it ... no beating round the bush, no small talk but a direct and confident accusation that made her heart skip a beat. She stopped her walk to lean on a parked car to steady herself from the growing empty feeling in her gut. Her voice was unsteady and she had no conviction in what she replied.... but how? who had been speaking? And when Sunil had declared with a finality that he was very disappointed and disconnected she knew she could never call him back. Before she knew she was crying and regretting every moment of the past. Someone passed by and stopped for a moment to see a girl in distress... shook his head and continued on his way... "What a sad world" he thought. What the person did not know was that the girl was not sorry for what has happened but for the fact that she had been careless.Manomita had been ulrta cautious since then. She kept her secrets well and to herself. She walked out of the imposing Building that housed one of the more prestigious Bank near the GPO and started walking briskly as the wind began to grow stronger and cooler dropping the temperature suddenly. She could sense the huge shower which was due and hastened towards the parking lot in the viscinity of the famous Lal Dighi...
Gautam Sinha was a small person, well built and a very good footballer. He had played football for his school in Ahmedabad and was considered to be the best defender of his class. He also have been very successful in interpersonal relationships and had a charm about him that made him a very likeable person to be with. His job for the State Bank Of India was a token of his immense talents as a sportsman and he played football for the Mohunbagan club. It was late in the afternoon when he had finished his day on the field and was going out of the club when the winds picked up. This was the obvious signs of the nor-wester that he has come to witness in this part of India. The temperature has already dropped and the sweltering humidity has suddenly been replaced with a cool dryness. The sky over the Eden Gardens looked pitch black and by the look of it the showers were due any moment. He paused, feeling uncertain about his immediate future plans of riding on his Motor bike home. He decided to take his chances knowing fully well riding in this weather would be very risky and recovering from an ankle injury it would worsen his chances for playing against the arch rivals East Bengal the following week.
Manomita made it to her car just when the first drops of rain hit the roads. She gathered her breath and stared at the hazy windscreen, the drops of water pouring now in splatters. The shower had not picked up yet. She started the car and drove out into the city road taking Outram Road and heading for the south. She passed the Indoor stadium on her right and negotiating the heavy rain which had already made the busy pedestrian infested roads clear of people. She approached the roundabout near the ferry services all the while thinking of the day when she had met...Bang!
The car swerved at the roundabout and skidded off the road and onto the pavement hit a pedestrian and rolled over.The pillion driver who was at the roundabout skidded to avoid the collision and the rider was thrown over... rolled a couple of times and lay still just off the pavement. There was a sudden flare of activity. men came rushing over from the shelters and a bus screeched to a halt.
Manomita could hardly move when she felt gands groping at her... people were shouting and she felt herself pulled out of the car onto the pavement. She regained her senses as the rain hit her face drenching her. Somebody asked whether she could move and she mumbled a faint yes. She tried to sit and then painfully stand up. Hands supported her and she realized that she had a stinging pain in her chest and leg. She could remember faintly the last few moments when she watched in horror as ther car hit a pedistrian. She looked around with an urgency trying to figure out what had happened... then she saw him!
Sunil was being carried away in a waiting taxi blood dripping from his shirt and head. Manomita could not move for what seemed to be an eternity. Then she saw something else... Another man was being carried into another waiting taxi and she faintly remembered the face. She almost stood there shocked! the face came back to her as a flash of lightning tore the sky. She forgot her pain and almost in a trance moved forward and fell unconcious.
Four weeks later when she joined office she was greeted with flowers on her desk. There were a buch of cards and a gathering of colleagues. Hasan the accountant stood there with a twinkle in his eyes which she at once realized... it was a twinkle she had seen many times before and she felt a sudden rush of blood in her face. She thanked everyone for their well wishes and smiled back at Hasan. Lunch was not long and she agreed to have it with him.
Finally when everything had settled down she thought of the incident. Sunil had succumbed to his injuries and was declared Brought Dead at the SSKM. The pillion driver, Gautam... had a head and spinal chord injury and was in a coma. Police had been very helpful. Her front left tyre had burst and they understood that she could have done nothing to prevent what had happened... But deep down Manomita felt a relief... her secret is safe.
Tuesday 20 March 2007
Three trucks of ....
Nostalgia?
Absurd is it not? But imagine if it were possible... I would have ordered three truckloads of nostalgia. There are times when you feel it, times when you want to be immersed into it, times when you wish you could spend some and make others nostalgic and this is such a time.
Let me see...
One truckload would consist of the days when I was in college spending quality time with friends and classmates, freaking out near Satyanarayan Park in front of an unmarked sweet shop with a bell hanging like the ones you can see in the temples. Oh! Those were the days when you could take extended hours of break from the same classroom that you had studied in for the last three years of graduation, a small mezzanine floor in some dark stairs' landing, where the space was renovated to make room for 30 odd desk-chairs for a privileged group of students who could afford to spend Rupees 1000 to study computer science in a rusty old college in the midst of a busy market.
We were a happy bunch of young people who had dreams and aspirations to make it big like the song papa kahtey hain bara naam karega…. Those long hours at the crampy and smelly common room where we played table tennis for hours or the swelteringly hot hardware laboratory, carved out from the projector room in the college auditorium… those were the days when nothing could have been better. I still remember the strange situation my college professors fell into when I greeted them good morning. Fresh out from the school and thinking in terms of the school discipline it was so weird to have bunked the first Bengali class. (I hope you are keeping a count, the truck is almost half-empty) … I remember the day when I had my first tryst with proper and authentic Bhaang from the sweet shop I had mentioned earlier. For the first hour nothing seemed amiss; then all of a sudden I felt my vision and powers of comprehension begin to play tricks on me, how light I felt… I had to be carried out of the college into a waiting taxi to be sent home with a classmate. I remember how I had the first so-called ragging in the hands of the SFI union where the perpetual Rajuda (who had been there when I joined the college and was still there when I left it 3 years later) had been furious at my disobedience and my strong denial to pay any SFI chandaa. I loved those days. Eating out at some unknown eatery and having a full-fledged adda over a coffee in the famous Coffee House I felt so much accomplished. The aspirations were simple and so were the dreams. Remembered how we planned a picnic that failed to materialize… The trip to Dakhineshwar, following some girl from college for a friend who was blown away by her appearance and beauty.
The second truckload would be for the days of my school and my school friends. The days of school are a joy forever. My first crush, the drama competition where things got very wrong, the games classes and the pranks… I wish now I was a school kid again with no worries about life and loads of time to play and loads of mischief to be made. I remember the first fight at school where I beat a boy half my size and then the severe punishment from the teacher, I remember the prize distribution ceremony from my fourth standard when I secured a third position among a sea of students … ha ha I remember it all. And this is pretty much all about my three trucks of Nostalgia…..
Now wait a minute you will say…
You might wonder… how come it finished so quick…. Well I shared it with you haven’t I? Don’t just lie my dear friend I am sure I did otherwise how come you are left with that dazed look on your face?
Absurd is it not? But imagine if it were possible... I would have ordered three truckloads of nostalgia. There are times when you feel it, times when you want to be immersed into it, times when you wish you could spend some and make others nostalgic and this is such a time.
Let me see...
One truckload would consist of the days when I was in college spending quality time with friends and classmates, freaking out near Satyanarayan Park in front of an unmarked sweet shop with a bell hanging like the ones you can see in the temples. Oh! Those were the days when you could take extended hours of break from the same classroom that you had studied in for the last three years of graduation, a small mezzanine floor in some dark stairs' landing, where the space was renovated to make room for 30 odd desk-chairs for a privileged group of students who could afford to spend Rupees 1000 to study computer science in a rusty old college in the midst of a busy market.
We were a happy bunch of young people who had dreams and aspirations to make it big like the song papa kahtey hain bara naam karega…. Those long hours at the crampy and smelly common room where we played table tennis for hours or the swelteringly hot hardware laboratory, carved out from the projector room in the college auditorium… those were the days when nothing could have been better. I still remember the strange situation my college professors fell into when I greeted them good morning. Fresh out from the school and thinking in terms of the school discipline it was so weird to have bunked the first Bengali class. (I hope you are keeping a count, the truck is almost half-empty) … I remember the day when I had my first tryst with proper and authentic Bhaang from the sweet shop I had mentioned earlier. For the first hour nothing seemed amiss; then all of a sudden I felt my vision and powers of comprehension begin to play tricks on me, how light I felt… I had to be carried out of the college into a waiting taxi to be sent home with a classmate. I remember how I had the first so-called ragging in the hands of the SFI union where the perpetual Rajuda (who had been there when I joined the college and was still there when I left it 3 years later) had been furious at my disobedience and my strong denial to pay any SFI chandaa. I loved those days. Eating out at some unknown eatery and having a full-fledged adda over a coffee in the famous Coffee House I felt so much accomplished. The aspirations were simple and so were the dreams. Remembered how we planned a picnic that failed to materialize… The trip to Dakhineshwar, following some girl from college for a friend who was blown away by her appearance and beauty.
The second truckload would be for the days of my school and my school friends. The days of school are a joy forever. My first crush, the drama competition where things got very wrong, the games classes and the pranks… I wish now I was a school kid again with no worries about life and loads of time to play and loads of mischief to be made. I remember the first fight at school where I beat a boy half my size and then the severe punishment from the teacher, I remember the prize distribution ceremony from my fourth standard when I secured a third position among a sea of students … ha ha I remember it all. And this is pretty much all about my three trucks of Nostalgia…..
Now wait a minute you will say…
You might wonder… how come it finished so quick…. Well I shared it with you haven’t I? Don’t just lie my dear friend I am sure I did otherwise how come you are left with that dazed look on your face?
Confessions? Well may be...
Today it is all sunshine in a land where it is a luxury and the winds have a certain chill about it that would remind you of a moment long lost. But, nothing seemed right. Not even the best of weathers could be enjoyed if you are in such a lousy mood. But you have to accept the reality that you can do nothing about it.
My mind wanders off to a sultry day when the beaches seemed so colourful and the sea so green and there was fun and laugter all around. Pictures of that day were a long lasting memory of what was a reality. The fun and frolick that filled the air that day is a distant memory. That someone got disoriented and preferred thorns to a smooth bed was something I could not have predicted but seriously speaking I had no hand in it... nor did I wish something of that proportion happened; for I was tipsy beyond my own limits. I had been tipsy for the most part of the vacation but that was not out of my habits... I did not trust myself in my normal senses and did not want to spoil the enjoyment.
People were surprised at my bold outlook when I engaged in the delicate craft of preparing a herbal stick and they watched as if it was something they never saw before. I was unfazed and not thinking and to some extent taking pride in my craftmanship. I wish I could have been different a bit more likable in a different sort of way and a bit less transparent in my likes and dislikes. Some say that I always pointedly do and indicate to things that I somehow connect with.
Extremely disadvantageous.
I wish I could have been discreet and an academic studying somewhere in Alaska and yet did not feel cold remembering someone equally discreet.
Disturbing thoughts.
I remember another rainy day when thungris and classical music played on... I remember the strange premonition I had and the strange and meaningful words and looks of a long lost acquaintance (or more of a self proclaimed lunatic and rival) and the uneasiness of a loss staring at my face. I wished I was somehow wrong but alas I say this with a pinch of salt I was so right.
The offer was not official and more personal and the offer took everything from me and bestowed the riches on someone else. Pooh! I was a jelly and a misfit for that gathering.
Please dont try and understand what I have confessed.
SJ was right.
I am too introvert to have said everything in public.
My mind wanders off to a sultry day when the beaches seemed so colourful and the sea so green and there was fun and laugter all around. Pictures of that day were a long lasting memory of what was a reality. The fun and frolick that filled the air that day is a distant memory. That someone got disoriented and preferred thorns to a smooth bed was something I could not have predicted but seriously speaking I had no hand in it... nor did I wish something of that proportion happened; for I was tipsy beyond my own limits. I had been tipsy for the most part of the vacation but that was not out of my habits... I did not trust myself in my normal senses and did not want to spoil the enjoyment.
People were surprised at my bold outlook when I engaged in the delicate craft of preparing a herbal stick and they watched as if it was something they never saw before. I was unfazed and not thinking and to some extent taking pride in my craftmanship. I wish I could have been different a bit more likable in a different sort of way and a bit less transparent in my likes and dislikes. Some say that I always pointedly do and indicate to things that I somehow connect with.
Extremely disadvantageous.
I wish I could have been discreet and an academic studying somewhere in Alaska and yet did not feel cold remembering someone equally discreet.
Disturbing thoughts.
I remember another rainy day when thungris and classical music played on... I remember the strange premonition I had and the strange and meaningful words and looks of a long lost acquaintance (or more of a self proclaimed lunatic and rival) and the uneasiness of a loss staring at my face. I wished I was somehow wrong but alas I say this with a pinch of salt I was so right.
The offer was not official and more personal and the offer took everything from me and bestowed the riches on someone else. Pooh! I was a jelly and a misfit for that gathering.
Please dont try and understand what I have confessed.
SJ was right.
I am too introvert to have said everything in public.
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