Tuesday, October 5, 2021

Mahalaya 2021

 Losing a mother is like losing a part of you. For you were once a part of her, you see. It’s looking at the veins at the back of your hands and realising how similar they are to hers. It’s unconsciously humming a song you don’t even like, and remembering that she did the same when she came out of the shower and went straight to the thakur ashon to offer nokul dana, jol and dhoop (with a towel still wrapped around her hair). It’s picking up a brown nail polish at the shops, and keeping it back…because brown was her favourite colour (and nail polish her favourite indulgence).

It’s also losing a part of your identity, because nobody knows those minute details from your childhood like she did. One may know how you got that scar on your forehead, but only she can tell you how tight you held her hand at the doctor’s during the stitches (and begged for an ice-cream, specifically in a cone, later). An aunt or a neighbour may tell you how unique your dresses were, but only she can tell you how she bought the fabric and lace from that corner shop in New Market, and had it made as per her specific design at the Ladies Fancy tailoring shop.

It’s been four months and six days since I lost Ma. Well-wishers have suggested that I take the time to grieve. Friends have advised that I should write about my thoughts. But I didn’t know how to. What words could capture something that was so intense, and yet hidden in the most mundane things? How do I explain the sudden anxiety in the middle of the night, when I realise I haven’t called her that day? Or when I ask my eight-year-old to pose in her new dress, so that I can send the photo to Dida? Grief, you regular yet random, fleeting yet constant thing…how will I ever capture you in words?

Grief is like a filter. It casts a different layer to every occasion – happy or sombre. It changes the colour of memories. It makes the happiest of them slightly damp. It leaves every present moment only a tad bit incomplete. The little achievements….the proud milestones…the joyful moments…almost perfect, but never quite. It’s not a moment in time. It’s a way of life. The life before a loss….and the life after.

And this was my first Mahalaya in my life after. Mahalaya – the day, the feeling, the smell, the sounds! All changed forever…yet again after 20yrs (since Baba breathed his last). The first time when the significance of the day was more in the Tarpan than in the Chandipath. The first time when the feeling of “Ma aar nei” was stronger than “Ma asche…”.

  


Sunday, August 29, 2021

Bela Bose Flipped

 Anjan Dutta (and Bela Bose) fans (and I am a fan too of the song, btw), pardon the silliness...but I wonder if "Bela Bose - Flipped" would sound something like this... ;)


P.S. Written in a silly mood (so not meant to be taken seriously).

‐--------------------------


"Bela Bose - Flipped"


Chakri ta ebar cherey debo, ogo shuncho

Eto khatakhati ar je poshachchey na

Dhaar dena gulo ebar tumi ekai dekhe nio

Nota pachtar chakri ar korbona.


Chakri ta ebar cherey debo, ogo shuncho

Ekhon ar keu atkate parbe na

Ghoreybaairey dudik shamliye, chollam to koto

Baki jibon ta ebhabe katabo na.


Eta ki 2441139?

Ogo koi tumi...parcho ki shunte?

Lunchbreak jachchey furiye

Oi boss elo bujhi firey.

Debo na kichutei ar chechatey.


Shopno ebar hoye jabe ogo shotti

Etodin dhorey eto opekhkha

Nota pachtar ei rat race e

Bodhdho jiboney bondi dujoney

Hapiye gechi roj ditey e porikhkha


Ar kichu din tarpor amar mukti

Grihokormey nipuna hobo shotti...

Shada kalo ei jonjale bhora miththey kothar shohorey

Tomar amar single-income sonsar.


Hello 2441139?

Ogo koi tumi...parcho ki shunte?

Lunchbreak jachchey furiye

Oi boss elo bujhi firey.

Debo na kichutei ar chechatey.


Chup kore keno eki ogo tumi kandcho

Chakri ta ami cherey debo shotti

Career and promotion er, ichchey geche furiye

New mantra "Netflix and parenting".


Hello 2441139?

Dhur chai...2441139?

Ogo..

 2441139...

Shuncho...

2441139

Grief

 And when the lights are off...

And curtains pulled 

When the sky is dark

And the neighbourhood quiet...


The memories march in

The wounds refresh.

The storm inside

Awakens.


The deep, dark, bottomless pain

Stirs every ounce of my being.

Scenes I wish I could forget

Pictures I wish I could unsee

Parade before my eyes.


So when they say you're "resting in peace" now.

I hope you are. At least one of us must.



Monday, February 8, 2021

Partner in Crime

 

Most corporates turn their philanthropic activities into marketing campaigns. I have no issues with that, as long as the philanthropy continues…

When I was in Year 5 or 6 in school, Maggi had sponsored some such initiative. Something to do with educating underprivileged children (I can’t quite remember). But what I do remember is that they gave all the students a packet of Maggi each, as a token.

For those who know my love for Maggi, this may not come as a surprise. But I went home that day only with half a packet of Maggi. The other half? Well, I ate it of course. Uncooked. In class. Sneakily, without the teacher’s knowledge. How easily the Horlicks tag line  - “ami to emni emnii khai”, could be applied to this product too, I thought!

The other half, Ma cooked (in 2 minutes, as they claim). But I ate it in less than a minute, am sure.

 So, it pleases me to see that I have given birth to (or raised) another fan of the noodles. She happily eats the Masala variety (my favourite), and does not find it spicy (which is strange for someone who plays the “too spicy, mummy” card, way too often).

So yesterday, back home from school on a raining afternoon, we slurped our bowlful of steaming, hot Maggi. As I let her eat some uncooked strands of noodles (much to her amazement and joy), I smiled at my new-found partner in crime! 



Dear Maggi

From a chunk of cold noodles that would take the shape of my lunchbox in school...


To a bowl of freshly-made steaming noodles when bedridden with flu...



From a quick meal on a winter afternoon, when hands and mind were too frozen to cook or clean...


To a wholesome midnight snack when the book just couldn't be put down...


Dear, Maggi...what would I have done without you!

(Originally written in 2011, as a FB post)