Pain

After a full day’s wait, she pinged him on WhatsApp. It’s very unlikely that she would initiate a ping. Call it her ego or her pride. But something about him compelled her to know his whereabouts. Not that he was the best catch available in the market. They had not even heard each other’s voice for more than 8 years. A dating site got them closer, almost luck by chance. Closer not in proximity but through the pool of emotions. They would tell each other stories. Stories of their life some good, some funny, some tragic, some ironic. However, these stories are what made them who they are today. A thought would trickle to her why did she like him other than the fact that she always liked his company even when they chatted through a frivolous chatroom. Even now both of them had many options in the market to get associated with. He was a rich person with a good body. She was poor with an unhealthy body. He liked to love life that could be controlled, she liked to live a life that ran on faith. But what pulsated between them was the pain. She could resonate with him. He had that pain very fresh in his heart that she is carrying for years together. That pain that makes you lose hope in life, that pain that makes you let go trust forever into an unknown space where it fades like the stars of a cloudy night. You can see that trust playing hide and seek from behind the clouds of thoughts.

… maybe I will continue it on some other day. For now my reader I have only this much to offer.

Distich

Distich - A pair of verse lines goes back to their origin in early 16th century. They are fascinating as a lot can be said with very little, also they are challenging as a lot needed to be said in very few words. Below is my first attempt on a Distich.

 

Book Review: Pride and Prejudice

Book: Pride and Prejudice

Author: Jane Austen. Publisher: Thomas Egerton, Whitehall

Pages: 252. Price: 397

Pride and Prejudice can be safely called Jane Austen’s most charming novel. Set in the late eighteenth century and early nineteenth century the novel fascinates readers till date and is often seen in the list of “most loved books”.

It is a work of fiction which has a certain resemblance to Austen’s life. The key women characters are seen struggling with a certain amount of poverty that Austen had to deal in her own life. The bonding between two elder sisters Jane and Elizabeth has been depicted as strong which stands true for Jane and her sister Cassandra.
The book starts with Mr. Bennet who is living with his wife and five daughters: the beautiful Jane, the clever Elizabeth, the bookish Mary, the immature Kitty and the wild Lydia in Hertfordshire.

There is a constant worry Mrs. Bennet portrays to get her daughters married to rich men. Through an invitation to a ball, the family gets introduced to wealthy and cheerful Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy who is twice as affluent than Bingley but aloof in nature. Through a series of incidents, the story weaves into a conflict between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth where she speaks of him as “I could easily forgive his pride if he had not mortified mine”

The book gives into the fact that goodness and truth prevails. After a series of emotional involvements, the story surrenders to the love Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth felt for each other where the former overcomes his pride and the later overcomes her prejudice.
The book gives certain quotes that can be taken as life lessons like when Caroline Bingley says “I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!”
Throughout the book, we come across clashes between different social strata, genders, desires that are nurtured yet resulted in consensus. Like most love stories we reach to a definite ending which as a reader gives us peace, however, if the author had chosen not to give a definite ending to the story it could have catered to a different aspect. What if Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth did not agree to marry it would have been interesting to see how Austen would have dealt with that.

Notun Boudi

 That morning was a sunny one. After weeks and months of rains Kolkata saw the first day of sunlight which agreed to stay from dawn to dusk. The lane in the north Kolkata had few taxis parked on either side of the road. Private cars started to park in the spaces in between just to accommodate few hours till the owners finished paying their visit at “Bhaban” Few hand-pulled rickshaws strolled from one end of the lane to the other, aimlessly, not knowing which will be their next destination.

The “shamiana” had white cloth wrapped all around with decorative plastic flowers in the entrance of 3 feet by 7 feet makeshift gate. Basu’s had to cover a bit of the footpath and the adjacent lane to make it a suitable place for visitors to sit. Some ceiling fans were mounted for that day. Only by evening they would finish their work of circling around and get stalled in the decorator companies cycle van.

As you enter the gate you would see the years old “Sodor Dorja” that stood by witnessing birth death and weddings of the house. Time has passed but the “choukath” knows how was it when “Notun Boudi” came into this house and how was it when “Dadabhai” left the house for the last time to get burnt into ashes and rest in the laps of Ganga.

“Uthon” had guests seated on green plastics chairs and white “Bel Ful” hanged in forms of wreath and garlands everywhere across the decorator company’s white cloth.

Inside the first room sat Notun Boudi infront of Dadabhai’s picture among a traffic of Brass Utensils, Bhagvad Gita, Clothes, Flowers, Food, Bhaja Mishti, Tele Bhaja and the old priest who have come here more than dozens of times to do the last rituals for various members of the family. Dadabhai glowed from his newly framed photo and Notun Boudi sat there in a pastel color saree with no makeup and sadness that her gut could feel too. She still wore her gold bangles, her thick long artistic chain because she knew this is the last time she is dressing up for Dadabhai.

Co-sisters, friends, uncles, aunt, cousins, brother in laws all are busy, everyone is doing something, footsteps climbing the staircases, rushing with trays of savories, merely brushing through people and more people, guests are being attended, tea coffee is being served, meal packets are being counted and Notun Boudi sat quietly infront of Ponditmoshai doing exactly what she is being told. Her face has aged suddenly only skin covers the cheek bones, the smile is lost, the heart is mourning, the loss is ultimate, though she knows death is only about leaving the body and its only life life and life still she can not see the body, can not touch him, can not hear him, can not love him, can not care for him. Ponditmoshai asks her to repeat after him “Pati Bhrahma, Pati Bishnu....” She keep her hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointing upwards, thumbs close to her heart, drooping eyes, eyebrows down, gulping lumps of tears as if they are blocks of stones. Her life had meaning only because Dadabhai was there. When he was working in the manufacturing plant she would get up early morning at 4 o' clock so that he could eat his breakfast and reach on time for early morning 7 o' clock shifts. When he retired from work the son was still in school. She was his pillar to guide through financial ups and downs. In the last days of his life she even removed the lock of the bathroom so that incase he falls down on the floor while showering she would be able to rescue him soon. She was everything for him, his friend, his wife, his caretaker, his philosopher, his opponent for trivial fights and for her he was the world.

The son has got married, lives in United States of Opportunity. He left him as a proud father, a good human being and he left him with a void. A void that no one can fulfil. He is unhappy but he is young, his body is in a position to absorb the pain, he is trying to cope up with the loss and also attend the guests. His heart is numb, it doesn’t agree to the death. He has questions for God, why did he do this to his father. He is angry at the doctors why didn’t they take the correct decisions but when he looks at Notun Boudi his mother, the only thin he feels is helplessness. 10 more days and he has to leave her behind and travel across to the other part of the world which denies him to have the same day or night time with her. He is constantly thinking what should he do so that Notun Boudi feels comfortable.

Guests and more guests are pouring in. Some are meeting each other after ages, so from the melancholy of the death conversations moves to small talks sitting in a circle on the green plastic chairs of the decorator’s company. They are obviously here for the funeral but till they face Notun Boudi sense of sadness do not creep in, call it hypocrisy or normality, upto you. Young boys of the house are all working hard to attend every guests with their food packets, tea, coffee and mishti. Old uncles think in their mind may be I am the next one to leave this world and may be my funeral will be such. More pictures of DadaBhai are being brought on a thermocol board to hang in the entrance. Pictures covered his life in a glimpse starting with a passport size black and white photo when he was a teenage boy, their sidur dan moment from his marriage, his son's birth, celebrating his son's class 12 graduation, their 25^th year marriage anniversary, their son's marriage bringing in the daughter in law for the family and the house and more moments with relatives, friends on various occasions, travels and get togethers. His life has been captured in one board and it showed all the smiles. But the pains, the cries, the tough times all of that Notun Boudi has seen and no one else. She has felt it with him. She kept him strong, she comforted him.

2 hours more or 2 days more, most of the guests will go back home, the son will go back to the land of opportunities and Notun Boudi will still be Notun Boudi of Bhaban house.

Heart Breaks...

When your heart breaks it surely makes no sound but it has the most impact, food doesn't taste well, you loose interest in people, life has no goals, you are just breathing, walking, eating, smiling, talking, doing for the sake of doing. And when your heart breaks you loose trust. You loose trust forever, on everyone, in every possible way. After years the pain vanishes too, the tears dry up, the person who broke your heart his/her face becomes blur but the aftertaste remains strong and relevant.
Ironically when you see others going through heart breaks you tell them your story, you hope they don't suffer like you did, you hope they feel better after your chat, but you know they will go through the same shit. Again as you see others crying over heart breaks, mourning their lost love how you wish you could have gone back to that feeling of masochism but in vain even the pain has left you but not the suffering.

Heart breaks make you feel small, shame you on every level. You sham your body, you regret your doings, you wish you could have done things in a different way, kept silent, spoke more, never it seems that you have done the right thing because if you did then you wouldnt have been a heart broken person.

And at the end you just wish "May my worst enemy do not go through a heart break"

B for Bangalore

On a Cold Winter Sunday morning of 2002 Platform no 1 in Yashwantpur Railway Station was moderately crowded. Most of the people were waiting for Howrah Yashwantpur Express to Arrive, the group of people that gathered in the Platform were mostly youngsters waiting for their college buddies or Fresh IT Industry Software Engineers waiting for their roommates or close colleagues.

Time has an interesting toll on most human minds. It can travel for 35 Hours in a train without complaining a bit but when an hour delay seeps in the mind gets agitated and impatient.

That is exactly what was happening among the travelers in the train, most of them were ready after having the morning tea to get down at Yashwanthpur and embrace the Bangalore chill weather, the women had plaited their hair nicely, some chanted their morning prayers, young college girls managed to brush their teeth and put the lipstick on reaching out to their handbag’s tiny pocket, boys struggled to find their sleepers and packed them before putting the snickers on to start running as soon as the train stops in the platform for a rickshaw where a lot of bargain and argument would follow.

Among all this hustle bustle a boy in Ac 3 Tier, B1 Seat number 38, Upper Birth was sleeping peacefully. In his dream land, he was standing on a sea beach looking at the horizon and seeing a ship sail towards the far end which seemed to be the end of the world. In the twilight the beach looked not only peaceful but calm. He looked in his left and right no one was there other than a Ballon Seller. He felt almost like being Rajesh Khanna from the movie Anand, the only difference is he didn’t have the death taking disease cancer. He kept looking at the horizon as the steamer went close towards it. Life is good he felt.  Serene, calm and no complains

A sudden thud and someone calling out “Macha, get down, we have arrived” made Adarsh wake up to reality. He could hardly open his small eyes that had a twinkle in them when he saw everyone is so busy around him, trying to do something. Fraction of a second he realized, where he is and where he actually belongs. Quickly he got down to go to the wash basin and put some water on his face. He asked the fellow Macha passenger – “Bhai aa gaye kya Bangalore?” The Macha traveler nodded and said, “Ya man we are just waiting outside the platform for the last 50 mins”

Ten minute from then the Train entered the Platform leading one person towards his destiny. Little did he know it was a new chapter of his book called “Life”

 

Pic Taken from Google

A for Adarsh

"Why did you block me?" were the exact words that were typed in the small Facebook Messenger window

Adarsh kept thinking the reason why Priya may have blocked him
Was it because he didn't take her out for the Dinner Date that was scheduled months back
Or Was it because he didn't appreciate her gesture of buying the "Chocolate Mud" from Just Bake as a Shubho Bijoya mishti mukh

The Text got a notification of "Seen 9:34pm" but no one was typing
He thought in his mind its all over, she will never forgive him
But didn't he speak the truth and only the truth to her
Wont a woman like her, who is caring, matured, loving understand all that he said and all that he couldn't say

Time flew as he kept roaming in the grey hallway of his thoughts
Has he done something so bad that he will never be forgiven
He never wants to hurt someone, that was not his intention.
Will all the walks and the drives and the holding hands and the kisses fade away to just one thing he said

After a good 20 mins Priya replied - "There is no use talking to you now. You need time to settle and I don't want to linger things"
Adarsh felt a moment of relaxation, unknowingly he just took a deep inhalation and typed very carefully - "Yes, you are right"
He paused thinking that the tank of angst in Priya will start flowing
Again there was the "Seen 9:59pm" but no "...is typing" was seen
Out of desperation he wrote "You are an amazing person"
Again there was the "Seen 10:05pm" but no reply
Adarsh thought in his mind why is time so heavy on him now. Why does it feel he is in a chamber breathing and he can hear his own breath
This time he wrote "I am no longer at Techno Park now, I have moved out of the place"
Curiosity is a tool to unscrew. Though there was the seen on the messenger but no typing or reply came back.

His mind tried to convince him that he did the right thing. He did tell the truth, he did try to give it a nice ending, but his heart popped up with a balloon of honesty saying You know what you have done

To be Continued.....