And jaaaaast when you are almost about to count Calcutta as a blessing, the city makes you feel unwelcomed, unwanted, guest-like
Almost fighting for my piece of land. Trying every bit for acceptance.
But for how long!?! Why this step daughter treatment. Why no sympathy? Why so unkind?
One blessing finally without fighting my way through the basics of life? Atleast? Please?
"Teen Show Taka," said the Uber driver.
"Thik Ache Sir."
"Cash deben kintu."
Nisha shrugged and started searching through her bag for cash. The Calcutta rain began pouring, washing away eleven years, taking Nisha eleven years into the past…
2014
"Teen Show Taka," said the yellow taxi driver.
"TEEN SHOW?" Nisha exhaled and looked at her pink purse, which she had purchased especially for her first day at her first job from Esplanade.
She started counting all the tens, twenties, and fifties from its various zipped 'pockets'; together, it made 360 rupees. A mental calculation of 50 rupees for lunch and 10 for evening laal cha left her with exactly 300 for the taxi now. But what about the return commute from work? She fished more and found a few five-rupee coins, enough for a non-AC bus ride home. Phew. Sorted.
"Thik Achhe Kaku, cholun taratari, khub late hoye gechhe.”
She cursed all the rain gods and her luck for this late start on her second day of work. How could she be late on her second day? 300 rupees would now be unnecessarily spent on a lavish taxi.
‘Eka Eka Taxi Chora, Moja toh’.
But three hundred rupees was her budget for three days of travel and food.
"Maybe I’ll take some money from Mom," she thought.
But now she was a working lady; could she ask for money? Is there any acceptable age after which children cannot ask for money from their parents? She knew there isn't.
Anyway, she sighed, and then some more.
“Tomorrow, must start early,” she repeated to herself a thousand times.
The yellow taxi swooshed through the Calcutta monsoon.
Eleven years passed by!
2025
Nisha still does not have cash, but this time, it is out of choice and mostly laziness to visit an ATM.
"UPI neben Sir, please"
"Extra ponchash lagbe. Brishtir din."
Nisha nodded and smiled as the white Uber swooshed through the Calcutta monsoon.
It's been a few weeks since I moved back. The main reason to not shed many tears while leaving Bangalore was the racism that has emerged out of nowhere. But here, in less than a month I've heard "admi log k beech kyu bol rhi hai aap" from a broker (I blamed his education); "saali double battery" from a random audience at Bassi's show (I again blamed his education, a little to loudly this time); filled a police clearance form asking for "spouse name/পত্নীর নাম" like it's impossible for a Bengali female to fill the form unless they want only lesbian couples renting out (again, education?). What's with this sexism all around. Calcutta was never this way! Or I have been in blind love? Like always in love? Was this all a mistake? Like always in love?
But then, last Friday, I drove through torrential rain and heard Jimmy on Dilse; my heart instantly knew, all shall eventually be well. One way ticket, was and would always be worth the struggles. Inshallah :")
Video is for the doubt days. But cut down on sexism, you.
