Just Another Day..

It was a cloudy morning. Cool breeze coming from the window. The Salmon-Pink curtain that she recently bought, gently sweeps her face. Naina tugs her sheet turning over to the other side, very reluctant to get up.
She slowly peeps through her half closed eyes. A perfect day to miss office. Suddenly her snoozed morning alarm in her mobile rings out giving her a guilty wake up call.
Reluctantly Naina gets up, still yawning. She is late. Her empty stomach has already started giving her alerts.

Within 30 minutes she rushes out of the house in an empty stomach…silently praying that she is just in time for the bus.

She gets in the last bus of her route just in time panting. She manages a window seat which has a broken glass. She cribs. Of course the seat had been left empty by the co-passengers because of the broken glass this monsoon.

She settles down as the bus starts moving and looks out side.

She sees the Sweepers sweeping…the shutters of the shops opening… people gathering around the vegetable vendor arranging his possessions …..middle aged men in the local pan shops reading the newspapers while sipping a cup of tea in clay cups….
She muses, as the bus crosses a local temple and how her colleagues in the bus raise their arms in unison to pray. She sees religious looking people walking in and out of the temple…
School kids lined up across various bus stops waiting for the bus to arrive…

All reminding her of just another day in the calendar…

But…Deep within…she feels the ache…Something tells her that it is not the same.  

She closes her eyes and tries to get some sleep. The memories of the past flashed in front of her eyes. The bunking classes…The waiting at the corridor… The late night phone calls which lasted till the mobile ran out of charge….The daily dates  after college in the library….Weaving dreams together….The Refrigerator color and even the babies names that were decided…The tearful  goodbye on the last day of college….


She jerks herself up.  Wipes the sweat drops from her forehead. Drinks water from her water bottle looking out at the window.  The view is blurred. She wipes the tiny tear drop from the corner of her eyes.

Her unfinished story. It been a long time but still it makes her restless again. She should have been used to it by now.

Her thoughts are broken by a sudden jolt of the bus. The bus driver unable to overtake another bus passing by has now started shouting standing in the middle of the road!   

It’s just another day. Smiles Naina.

SMILES....

You turn on the radio to find out your favorite song is being played by the RJ….

On a Sunday morning you are awaken by the smell of Luchis being fried by your mom in the kitchen….

On an already crowded elevator someone enters wearing your favorite cologne….

A Facebook “Like” on your random post by someone whom you secretly gave your heart out..

Your Gym crush comes on your adjacent treadmill to workout….

You get up on your birthday morning to find your Facebook page flooded with best wishes….

A old friend tags you in an old school group pic....

Watching your an year old nephew take his first toddler steps….

Returning on a taxi cab alone after an evening well spent with your best buddies…

Crossing your favorite hangout joint with your old-buddies on the way to somewhere…

I secretly SMILE my way!!

Feeling Blue

The little drops of rain on my window pane are making me restless. Monsoon has just arrived in Kolkata and the weather has become utterly romantic. The cool breeze on my face is becoming torturous. They are reminding me of someone…My heart is pounding fast…On my way to everywhere my eyes search someone... My mind races back to the last monsoon…When everything was fine…when the world seemed a beautiful place to live in…When my only ambition in life was to get married and raise children….

People say “Always listen to your heart”. As a child I have been following it. But what to do when my heart says nothing? Even my mind has no answer.

LALI

Yesterday night I was unable to sleep. Thanks to the hot and humid climate of Kolkata.

As I lay on my bed staring at the white “golok champa” tree just outside the window across the narrow lane, I noticed a birds nest.  My mind raced back to my childhood days when how once in a spring I and Lali had once broken an egg from a sparrows nest, tilting it a bit too much due to. And how guilty we felt when we watched the mother sparrow squeak helplessly when she returned to her nest.

Lali. My first ever friend. We were neighbors. We lived just next to each other. She was a year older than me. She was born on the birthday of “Lalan Fakir ” and hence her grandmother had named her Lali. Though she had an official name, Indira, but for me she was Lali.

My earliest memories with Lali goes up to the time when her elder sisters used to give me a “Doodh Bhaat” which means a Dummy Player in all the games they played and how she helplessly stood by my side failing to convince them.

We used to plan the whole year for the major festivals. We loved staying back at home during the major festivals while all others were planning vacations to far places.

One Day while playing in the winter evening we saw Jaya Didi. I had not seen her since her marriage last year and she looked extremely strange and had a peculiarly swollen tummy. Lali whispered into my ears as they crossed, “She has a baby in it”. Baby? “Yes!”. How is it possible? Aren’t sent directly to the hospital by God ? And the women who wanted them just went there and chose the prettiest of them all? Of course Lali was exaggerating.

Then on one fine chill winter morning she came to my house panting. “Come out fast, Jaya Didi is back from the hospital with her baby”. I run as fast as I could with her in wonder and I saw a small tiny baby with tiny hands and legs as big as a doll. It was as red as a rose and we named her Rose.

I grew extremely jealous once when on her 8^th birthday, she had invited her school friends for the very first time to her home. I sat quietly on a corner of the sofa as she was busy attending her new friends. Then suddenly one of the girls asked, “Hey Indira, who is your best friend?”. She hesitated for a second and then she pointed out her finger to me. What a proud moment that was!

Her family was a crazy fan of Indian cinema and so was she . She had seen all the latest releases. I used to wait for the time to meet her during the Monday evenings when she would narrate the latest Bollywood movie she had seen in the weekend. Dialogue by dialogue, Scene by scene.  Pardes, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, Raja Hindustani, Pyar Kiya to Darna kya, Dushman….. . Sometimes one evening was not enough and she had to continue on the next.

She was my companion in all my childhood adventures from picking raw mangoes and berries on a stormy April afternoon to taking our cycles and exploring new areas of our township. We played all sorts of games together but our favorite was “Tapan Tapai”. A minimum of four people could play this game divided in two groups. Each group had to make the hurdles using their hand and feet and the other team has to leap over it.

After the Class XII board exams, my parents sent me to hostel to complete my studies further and Lali got admission in the nearby college where all her elder sisters went.

Once when I came home for vacations, I went to meet her as usual. She blushed when she saw me and her mother gave me a box of sweets and told me that her marriage was fixed. 11^th December. I was shocked. Shit! Aren’t my semesters are supposed to be going on at that time? The most important day of her life and I would not be present?

I took the phone numbers from her mother so that I could contact her after her marriage. Though I was eager to call her each single day, but I hesitated.

One day I gathered all my courage to call her in the evening. The phone rang. A Male voice received it on the other end. “Hello?”

 “Hi, Can I talk to Lali?”

“Lali? Oh, you mean Indu? May I know who is there?”

Indu? Nobody called her Indu.  I regained myself and said “Its her childhood friend.”

“Yes, I am her Husband. Just a moment please.”

After a few minutes she took the receiver and spoke in a heavy and solemn voice. I couldn’t recognize my friend that day. I asked her whereabouts and she asked mine. I felt that she had changed a lot after her marriage or maybe it was just a whim.

Then after a few minutes I heard the voice of her husband from far.

 “Indu, Can you please stop idling you time over the phone and give me something to eat? Where is my towel? Why don’t you keep things at their usual places?”

Then a silence of a second or two.

 “Bye for now. I will have to go”, she said.

I wanted to give her my phone number but before that she hung up the receiver. 

That was the last time I spoke to Lali.

Do not talk to Strangers....

As a child my mother used to very often tell me while goin out of the house, "Do not talk to strangers"...

How many strangers do we meet in every day life...and how many leave a lifetime mark in our lives....and how many do we forget in the very next moment.

But have you at any time been into any situation where you had no other option than trusting a Stranger?

Scene1:
My very first day at Bangalore. I was on a business visit to meet some clients and I was put up at a guest house arranged by my company which was near to my office. I had to reach my office on my own.
I gathered all the necessary directions from the caretaker of the guest house as how to reach office but the moment I stepped out of the complex gate I was lost.
And there I was bargaining with the auto-wala. "60 Rs for just 3 kms!!". "Yes Madam, the front gate is closed. I will have to take you to the different route."
Suddenly I heard a car honking behind and someone calling. A middle aged woman in a car. 
"Hello!! Excuse me!! Where do you want to go?"
"Oh! Hi! I want to go to the Manyata Embassy Business Park."
"New to the city?"
"Oh Yes! I am here only for a week."
I looked closely. There was a young girl and an elderly woman in the car too. Probaly her daughther and mother-in-law.
"Please come in. I am going in the same direction. I shall drop you."
Hesitated...Embarrased....Helpless...I plunge in.
The lady was so helpful, she not only dropped me at my office but also taught me how to go to office without letting the auto-walas cut a hole in my pocket.
I will so ever be grateful to her. I was too shy to ask her name. Just thanked her and got down from the car. Never ever saw her again for the rest of the days of the stay in Bangalore.

Scene2:
Me sitting at the waiting lounge at the Kolkata International Aiport. Waiting to board my first ever international flight to Dubai, where I had to halt for 8 hrs for my connecting flight to Amsterdam.
Phew!! The journey seemed too long too travel alone. I was hell scared. The only smile on my face was when I was receiving text messages from my friends to stop worrying.

A Man(lets call him Mr. X) in his early thirties was sitting just opposite to me, reading a Jeffery Archer book. He was so engrossed that his flight tickets fell off from within the pages of his book without him realizing it. I picked up his tickets and handed over to him. He gave a thankful smile. Soon our flight was announced and I completely forgot about this man.

After arriving at Dubai. I was completely lost. Such a huge airport. So many unknown faces from all over the world. The airlines company had arranged a hotel for me for the 8hrs halt at Dubai. I had to reach the airlines counter where they would arrange a bus for me to take me to the hotel.

I wander for about half an hour asking every 3rd person that i met to find my way to the security and immigration counter without any success. I became so stressed as I was lost that I could feel my eyes moisten.
And then suddenly in the crowd i see Mr. X!! I was so happy to see him as if I had met a long lost relative of mine and couldnt help smiling at him!
He comes up to me and say "Bangali?" means "Are you a Bengali?". Oh My God!! I couldnt ask for more! He guided me through the whole process of immigartion and security check. He told he was also in the same organization where I worked. He was going to Coepenhagen and our connecting flights was around the same time. We went to the same hotel and in the mean time met many Indians going to Amsterdam.
The final time we said goodbye to each other. I wanted to ask his name but "I donot talk to Strangers."