Musings on the Edge

Draped in a fiery red benarasi sari, she stood still, staring at the evening sun as it went behind the old neem tree. A cold breeze blew in through the window. Meera drew the end of her sari over the shoulder wrapping it around herself. 

Countless thoughts flashed across her mind - she thought about her parents, her Dada and Boudi, she thought about Roy, who had come down for her big day cradling an adorable baby in her arms, and she thought about Sid.

Sid. In her mind, she was eighteen years old, sitting at her seat in the classroom. The last time she was here, she was ten years younger, fired with the ambition of becoming a lawyer, and nursing a secret crush for Sid. He was new to their school, having joined their class to pursue his eleventh class studies. She remembered him as a tall boy with dark eyebrows and a deep booming voice. That had got him the title of Danav. And even after all these years it had stuck.

Last month when Sunil had met her, he had been excited about the reunion that was planned for March. It would be exactly ten years since they had passed out of school. Most of their classmates had left Jamshedpur for their higher studies, they continued to live away from home for job interests, but always came back for family, friends or any celebrations. But not for Meera. Her family had moved from Jamshedpur as soon as she completed her school. She was reluctant to go back and “Meera you have to come!”, said Sunil in exasperation when she had expressed her disinterest in the event.

Last year when she turned 26, she decided to stay back in Chennai, quietly bidding adieu to her the first quarter of her life. And most probably her spinsterhood. Off late all the conversations with her parents revolved around her marriage. They were old and anxious, and promised that they could breathe in peace if only she gave her consent for marriage. Meera was caught in the web of life. She had moved to Chennai, hoping to meet the love of her life. But fate was cruel and didn't allow her to move past her memories of Sid. The clock was ticking, and she still hadn't moved on. She could not make it to the reunion. That evening she had sat with her laptop, looking at her timeline which was flooding with updates and photographs from the reunion. The faces were bright with big smiles and crinkled eyes. And there in one of the photos, she saw him. That moment she felt regret seeping into her heart. She had lost her chance. 

She was startled by a loud knock at her door. "Meeraa! Have you draped the sari beta?", it was her beloved mashi. "The lady from the beauty parlour will be here any minute now. Hurry up". Meera shut her eyes, disappointed that her sojourn with her last evening as a spinster came to an end.

A Probashi's Durga Pujo

You can take the Bangali out of Bengal, but you can't take Bengal out of the Bangali.

Being a probashi, I find myself in complete agreement to this statement. We may be living miles away from our homeland, but we remain very deeply connected to our bangali culture and traditions. 

The Durga Pujo celebrated annually in my para in Jamshedpur stands testimony to this fact. It is celebrated with a lot of enthusiasm and ardency. With the beat of the dhakis, and dhunuchi dance, the presence of the goddess fills everyone with the spirit of religious fervour. The dawn of Mahalaya breaks to the tune of Chandi Path playing aloud from every household. Pankaj Mullick's voice reciting the hymns from the ancient scripture, ushers in a grand home coming celebration of Goddess Durga that lasts ten days. The festivities also mark the death of the mighty Mahishasura, who meets his end at the hands of the powerful goddess. 

The preparation start as early as a month before, with every member armed with their shopping list. For the kids, it means new clothes, footwear, and lots of pocket money. The elders are happy enough to let go of us, and have their own adda sessions. 

Once the pushpanjoli (flower offerings to the goddess) is over, it is time for lunch. Amongst all the fanfare, food remains the most eagerly awaited part of the event. The bhog served in earthen pots with labra (mixed vegetable), and payesh has a different flavor altogether. Try what you may, this flavor is impossible to replicate in your kitchen at home. 

Now that paying our respect to the goddess, and partaking of the bhog is done, we move to the next activity of pandal hopping. The pujo spirit makes our favorite uncles and aunts become more generous as we get treated to that extra bit of cash, which is to be utilised for this very purpose of pandal hopping. We not only explore the pandals that line the nearby areas, but also the different roadside stalls that sell goodies. 

Durga Pujo is indeed a special time for all of us, young and old alike. The goddess's home coming is a very joyful event, even more tearful is the moment when we have to bid her farewell. Those ten days brings all of us together in a mysterious way, it's her way of telling us about the importance of family and how they will be there for you even when you are away. My probashi self completely understands this feeling. And, I still remain very much, the bangali at heart.

Playing Columbus the Explorer

Childhood is the best period of a man’s life. Carefree and innocent, the child is still adventurous, exhibiting a quality of curiosity. He is oblivious to the fear of the unknown. In fact the mystery is even more beckoning.

When one grows up on a heavy diet of books, especially the likes of Famous Five and The Secret Seven, this idea takes a stronger form. It is easy to imagine oneself as a young sleuth trying to figure out the thief stealing Das Aunty’s prized dahlias, or as a hero rescuing the baby bulbuli bird abandoned by its mother, and at times the explorer whose curiosity gets better of him and gets him to explore the compound of the abandoned Dutta bari.

Such was my childhood. Growing up in the steel city of Jamshedpur, we were a gang of eight. Though studying in different schools, we had formed a strong friendship which is often brought by the fact of living in the same para. Our games were quite simple, hide and seek, chain-chain, lock and key, and an occasional game of cricket or football. But the real fun lay when we went exploring. Riding our cycle, we felt so free and liberated, we went round the old and familiar roads, the new and not so familiar streets, ringing the cycle bell with excitement, calling each other names, shouting out cautions, and laughing our hearts out.

It was during one such evening, that we found ourselves near Domani. This area was a 15 min ride away from our homes, and marked the meeting point of two rivers, Kharkhai and Subarnarekha. It had been our long unfulfilled dream to cycle to this spot ever since we came here for the Chhat puja celebrations. The river bank ran along for five kilometres and we had to climb down the cemented steps to reach the river. It was a forbidden spot, more so if you were a child and unaccompanied by an elder. But today, there we stood, defying the rule, infused with the spirit of an explorer, breathing in the fresh, musky smell of the river, savouring the sight of a new land! The Dalma hills with its lush green forests lay on the other side, the electric lights of the small hamlets flickered in the evening twilight; we saw people being ferried across the river to their homes; they will be back again on this side in the morning with fresh supply of vegetables and fish. It was a moment, a calm, breath taking moment in life that stayed with all of us forever.

Our moment was interrupted by the screeching sound of a powerful vehicle. A cloud of dust hindered our vision, and once it settled down we were presented with the sight of the new Tata Safari STORME Explorer edition. Our eyes admired the curves of this bevy black beauty, which in every way looked the perfect SUV. We never saw Mohit’s uncle stepping out of the car and the angry look on his face. We were let off by after a tough scolding, but Mohit had it tougher getting his ears boxed in public! Anyways we decided, it was a day well spent, with the river bank finally conquered, we felt victorious. Thank goodness for childhood and the madness it brought with it.:)

This post is an entry for the #I am Explorer contest for Indiblogger.

The 5 best things in my childhood

Vacations

Best perk of being in school. Oh the word brings back such fond memories! J. Summer and winter, the highlights of both this season was vacation time. Time off from school, meant that I could spent more time reading storybooks, cycling and exploring new areas, playing cricket or dip-dip. And of course, watch Chutti- Chutti on Doordarshan after completing my holiday homework.

Books

Remember Nancy drew, Hardy boys, Secret Seven, Famous Five, Phantom, Mandrake, ChachaChaudhary, Tinkle, Chandamama, and my favorites Tintin and The Three Investigators. I have always had a very healthy reader’s appetite, and enjoyed reading and collecting books. Saving my fee from the small errands that I ran for Ma, I used to buy Chandamama. But as years went by it was not enough, what cost only Rs. 2, has raised to Rs. 15 by time I finished schoolL.

Doordarshan

As a school student I had about 1.5 half hours set aside as viewing television programmes. With no cable connection, Doordarshan was only savior, but I am not complaining! My favorites shall always remain ByomkeshBakshi, Potli Baba Ki, Duck Tales, Tales Spin, Chekhov Ki Duniya, and EkTha Rusty. As I write this down, I begin to understand that my love for stories goes a long way back, and I need to thank Doordarshan for introducing me to Ruskin Bond, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Mark Twain and the Bong sleuths.

Evening adda

At 5.15 my house bell used to go off, our eight member strong gang rushed out for our daily playtime. All time favorite game was Dip-Dip, Chain-Chain, Lock-and-Key. Then there were the girls-only games like nine box. At times, when the boys insisted we played football and cricket in a small stretch of land at the end of K Road in Sonari. Winter season always meant endless games of badminton. When in mood for adventure, we used cycle around exploring new areas, away from our parents prying and concerned eyes. And this went on until 6.30; the street lights would come on, our mothers would repeatedly shout out for us to get back home.

Radio

In sans cable connection era, BBC, Voice of America, Akashvani, and Vividh Bharati were my source of information. Apart from the regular news and music, plays, interviews with famous personalities, science info were some very interesting segments in the programme format. While Ma cooked, and I studied, the radio played in the background. Back in my home, the radio was an integral part of our daily routine; it spelled the hour of the day for us. :)

Revisiting your childhood is always very nostalgic; it brings back a lot of memories, goood and bad. I look around and can see how much has changed since then. I guess just as I am growing old, the world is ageing as well. But there remain certain things which I cherished as a 14 year old child, hold the same charm for me as a 24 year old.