Sunday, March 27, 2011


Every time I peep through the windows of my car, I find a pair of eyes gazing inquisitively through the same windows,as if asking a question “Are you all right ?” I blink two three times and finally nod my head sideways to mean “Its Okay”.Then the figure would gradually withdraw its presence from my sight, leaving me longing for the moment.The dark blue sky behind the man would have started to turn golden yellow as I would return to my senses. My car ,by then would have moved a mile leaving behind the memories of the day by gone.

People say “Change is the only constant”. I have faith in the philosophy, but this one moment of departure , has always left me wondering if its true for sure ? I remember, this particular incident has been repetitively into play since I was at the most fifteen years of age ! The man, my loving “Baba”,"Dad","pops", or my "big Boss", has not changed a bit while seeing me off. There has been the same affection , the same concern, and the same guidance to protect me from every evil this earth could probably give birth to. Its despite the fact that ten years backwards i was a minor going to the school by myself ,and today i leave my home on my own to educate enough so that i can earn a livelihood.

“ It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel I will drink
Life to the lees,……..”(can't remember the name of the author)

My journey of the mist called ‘life’ had begun at a very young age in which i dreamt of exploring every opportunity that is in store for me. Fortunately I am the only child of my parents and accordingly was pampered for all my whims and fancies .Our family is a traditional Bengali and Punjabi family.Dad had settled in Delhi far from the tangles of origin, yet entangled with the bond of love among his relatives. Thus, I first saw the light of the world in the lap of a huge joint family or a “ Ekannabarti” family as referred to in Bengali. But as time flew and I came to my senses I could see my family being torn apart due to professional hazards of the elders, My Uncles followed their father in pursuing their occupation and settled in Kolkata and USA respectively .Dad managed with his entrepreneurial thoughts and abilities to earn well for his family. Gradually the family had started losing the charm of being one. I was alone with no elder or younger siblings . Therefore I was the only resort of every hope of future for my parents.I was alone in a big home where every one would feel fortunate to serve me. I was pampered extremely but at the same time the strict control of my mother had never allowed me to perform ill or evil. I was happy with whatever I was having for it was the love existing in my home,which overshadowed every grief which might have fallen at times for sure

The Dawn that comes after every dark night has always been significant to me in various ways.

I can still smell the fresh air filled with aroma of the “ Gandharaj” & “Beli” flowers that used to wake me up every morning at our kolkata home.The aroma of the flowers spread everywhere,and linger for the rest of the day in one’s senses. The age old boundary wall of our house would seem to be alive & breathing in the dark by the presence of the climber “Beli” tree upon it.The white flowers by then would have started to curtail down the gloom of the dark night. Among all these, I would find my mom collecting them, one by one from the trees. I remember, every day I used to beg for having some of them, and had to remain contained with the saying that those were sacred and were plucked for offering to the almighty. I started envying him at that tender age ! However,there was a chance for me also,as they were regarded to be devoid of the divine status,if any of them falls in the ground. So my first mission in the morning was to drop at least one of them for myself. My mom therefore would knowingly keep the “Saji” or the flower basket held high in her hand beyond my reach. Gradually with the singing of the Cuckoo and a competing Crow, the Sun God would start his journey on his chariot turning the dark sky to crimson red. My mom would take my hand for a morning walk by the lake,the Baligunj lake................

Still the journey is going on.................

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