Sunday afternoon and a little time before another food overdose and lots of things to say
so that I just read and smile and/or (most definitely feel sad for the
pessimist that I am) feel sad, few years down the line, if at all I survive
that long.
Yesterday’s visit to the station was very exciting. The
sight of the Howrah-Yashwantpur at the station, standing all empty made me want
to go back to the place where a few people love me still (little mercies)! Met
Sejuti’s parents today. The way Uncle held Aunty’s hand throughout, made me
misty eyed. Aunty suffers from Dementia and Uncle has been so patient with her ever
since. I could capture the moment he started praising Aunty’r singing and
teaching and Headmistress-hood, play it over and over again in my head to
believe that there still are people who love constantly and consistently, COME
WHAT MAY. Aunty, who understands very little of what is going on around only
trusts Uncle, who does not shout at her, even with the constant nagging,
domestic help, medical help, and what not. Both of them left their jobs voluntarily
when her Dementia was discovered, and today I heard the story again, without
even a tinge of regret in his voice. On one hand I was very very happy to see
such a couple, so perfect and on the other, I knew I wont have a chance to experience
something even remotely similar to that. I know how it is to remind the only person you love so dear that they loved you too, every single day and hoping that they will realise someday. But doing that with such grace, patience, optimism and love, I wonder how much I have been able to do (zero results), I dont know how much I would do. Silently waiting with bunch of complains to God and actually doing all that it takes to keep each other happy are diferent things. Sigh. Maa was so happy when I said “jano
arrange marriage eo etto prem” but then, I disappointed her with the reality
checks from me. I think she would be able to forgive me someday for this, and
the shame that I will bring her. Someday.
Coming back, today was our first day of college 5years ago.
I did not remember this this year. Strange?!? Olivia reminded me in the
morning. Poor her, has been tolerating my nonsense for quite sometime. So, day1
of college. Still feels like a dream. Auto-bus-bus-auto and there was Pailan
with all of its ugly pretty future days. Olivia very fondly remembered how Sidd
sat behind her during the Sem1 finals and it has been a story ever since! I remembered
a similar Sem1 physics practical but could not proudly talk about its consistency.
Ashamed I am not but to be someone’s story of shame or to be a story of pride kick is not something I particularly
enjoy. So as I was saying, college! I don’t even know if I should be thankful
for the lifetime of memories and love it brought me or the lifetime of
loneliness but yes, if I could, I would happily relive all of that, all over
again, even though now I know, what follows eventually. Oh Pailan!
And a little serious thing. Bangalore goli’s are definitely
not safe for girls. We were under the impression that Bangalore is as hep and
safe as Mumbai and tried a Girls-Are-Brave-Enough stunt, 2:30 at night and got
horribly hooted at. And yes, when you face a gang of 10-12 drunk men in the
middle of the night with “Raat kete jabe” comments and hooting, you do not gather the bravery of slapping them
back. You walk faster so that the empty goli with ample street light goes out
of sight soon. Makes me a weaker individual I know but then, I was afraid. The
voice of fear with which Maa scolded me at 11:30 in the morning today, after I woke
up, because my phone was off the entire morning was very sweet of her. The new realization
that if something ever happens to me, she will be lost. Also, to everyone,
there is a Maroon diary on the right hand side of the second rack of my
Almirah. Bishakha and Olivia would know what to do with anyway. But yes, Bangalore
is not as safe at night as I thought. Definitely not. But to sit and chat on
any of the main road pedestals, all through the night and end up with cracked
voice the next day is something I could not have done at Kolkata. One new thing
that way. Good? Bad? Lets not get into that. However, if I survive myself and if I adopt a girl child, I will teach her
kickboxing. Khub dorkari.
Also, Thank God for the Accenture carnival on Friday. I
would have completely broken down after 3 days of continuous depression
otherwise. The claps and music somehow saved me from drowning. I would have definitely
given up on trying-to-be-enough- for-myself otherwise. And the closing dance
performance before I left for the drenched bus ride
2 comments:
No more late night stunts please - stay safe :) As mothers it is the constant prayer that we chant all times. I live with my heart in my mouth.....And enjoy the showers of happiness, cos you deserve the best :)
The trying to be like everyone stunt gone in vain et al :)
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