Usually my Durgapur sojourns have meeting my mother in law, maternal uncle and Baisakhi’s son as mandatory part of the itinerary. This time, I was stuck in the hotel this morning (brother had gone to his in-laws) without any car. I had no ability to go see Baisakhi at her place.
Not to worry. She made time during the day and came over to meet me in her scooty!!
Ever since he was born over half a century of summers back, we have been very close. We used to write to each other when I left home and have been talking to each other everyday for the last twenty years or so. He always accompanies me when I travel in India. The car time together gives us a lot of time to chat. But usually they are interfered by his incessant business calls.
Which are interesting. Because at that point he proceeds to execute some dangerous maneuvers with both hands – deftly enough to make any ambidextrous person immensely envious. The process goes something like this: first, he lifts the phone with one hand and then uses the other hand to swipe the screen to accept the call. There is usually a second of thought in between – perhaps, wondering what the call might be all about. All this time, the car is moving and the bus in front has already applied its brakes. He notices that from the corner of his eyes and in a swift move, transfers the phone to his right hand, brings it up to his right ear, changes gear with his left hand while his head is cocked right to hold the phone firmly to the ear, re-transfers the phone to his left ear now using his left hand and then uses his right hand to sharply swing the steering wheel. He waits till he is within a whisker of defying the age old law of physics which prohibits two objects from occupying the same space at the same time. He does it so effortlessly that you would be tempted to believe that this is what he was really born for.
But the morning tea-time is “our” time. Before the day’s maddening schedule of meeting people re-starts, we always grab some tea together in the hotel and chat about topics that we chat about. On this last day, we were awake early and came down to the lobby at around 5:45. By the time we were done talking, he realized that it was already 9:15 and he was late in visiting his in-laws!!!
After my parents left, spending time with my brother is one of the primary attractions for coming back. It is not like we think similarly or are even built the same way – he is the risk taker in the family, I am the risk averse member; he is perfectly happy with his things and schedule all over the place,I am the only who has to write stuff down in a neat organized way; I have to keep all my finances in perfect order, he has a vague idea where his money might be…
But we complement each other very well. And we respect that of each other. THAT is what makes our relationship so special!
This is what the stuff of my childhood wildest imaginations was made off. When we were very young, we used to live in the north east corner of Durgapur. That was the end of the township. In fact on the other side of our road was a cemetery and pretty much nothing else.
In those tender years (the sum total age of the three siblings would not pip past the 10 year mark), anytime we saw large construction trucks going around, our imaginations would hit high gear. “They are going to make an airport here”…. “No, the train will go thru here…” – those were the invariable conclusions we used to come up with. And our imaginations would run wild from there. (Much later in life we got to learn the value of those trucks coming around to fix the potholes in our roads after every monsoon).
An airport in our small town of Durgapur would have been a dream come true.
About five decades later, here I am – in the airport of my childhood hometown. This became operational a few years back – and Sharmila and Natasha already beat me to this airport.
Bit of a surreal feeling, I have to admit!!
I had just about enough energy left in myself to create one more intersection point. Decided to go with this friend who I have not seen for 38 years. And even that, she has more vivid memories of that last meeting in her house than I do. Which is not very common. What is remarkable about Aditi – my friend in question – is that she finished all her studies in Durgapur and then started teaching in her high school. This means she is the rare person in my friend list who has never left Durgapur for studies or for work!!
Finding her place was a bit of a hassle – I had the address but we got misguided not once, not twice but thrice by walkers-by in the street. Ironically, we asked the first gentleman for directions while literally standing in front of her building. He duly send us down the wrong path!!
It was great to see her and catch up on her life story after these many years!!
My brother was driving from out uncle’s house to my mother-in-law’s house. We had just turned around the corner from Kanishka road when he asked – “Isn’t this where Buku has set up his food stall?” I let him know that was my impression too. We snooped around not exactly sure what were looking for – other than it would be a structure dispensing food of some sort.
I asked my brother to pull up closer to what looked like a food truck. I could see a few people inside – cooking and all that, but their faces were not visible. My brother was sure one of them was Buku. I had doubts.
We got out of the car and walked up. I could now see that there were three people inside – what must have felt like a heat chamber. There was one portly built guy with a head cover cooking some hakka noodles. He looked at us expecting us to place an order and immediately exclaimed “Arrey! Bachchuda? Pinanda?”
And that is how we found our friend with who we had spent many an evening playing soccer or cricket from 1979 Dec thru 1983 July. I left home after that. He was a great athlete and used go be our star player. He and his brother “Piku” – were also my mom’s favorite students in class. We grew up literally about 20 yards from each other.
Later in life, he started his fast food stall business. I knew the rough location of where he normally opened his truck. And that knowledge was good enough to meet this overjoyed gentleman, who thought nothing of ignoring his customers for a few minutes to relive our old days!!
If you ever ply the road between Mogra and Gurap, you are likely to come across a very small village called “Bhastara”. My brother and I had stopped there at a roadside tea stall before getting on the highway to Durgapur.
As the tea-stall guy was heating our tea, an ad stuck on a nearby tree caught my attention. Curious what is being sold in this distant village, I walked up to the tree and saw this.
The ad is for an astrologer. Not too surprising. My opinions on astrology aside (which are not particularly upbeat, to be sure), it is not uncommon to see a lot of astrologers / soothsayers / so-called-diviners preying on ignorant, poor people. In fact, my parents had taken me to somebody who had given me a stone to wear on my body to mend my wayward ways. What “wayward” ways, you ask? Well, apparently, my parents thought that my life had started skidding down fast since I had scored not-so-good marks in … get this … Science that year! The irony is beyond being rich.
Coming back to the ad, the line in the middle says – “Gold Medalist in Astrology”. I just have one question. Okay, two, really.
One: Who the heck is giving gold medals in astrology these days? Has it already become an Olympic sport?
Two: What is a gold medalist doing in this far flung village of Bhastara?
Well, the tea was getting cold. And we had a few folks to visit in Durgapur. I had no time to go around and ask the people nearby!!
We came to a red light and stopped. My brother, who is of the ilk that believes if your feet do not touch the starting line in a marathon race you are bound to lose it, somehow snaked his car thru the stationary cars/buses/motorcycles all the way to the front of the line. I can’t even claim that what he snaked over was legitimately a road.
But, for once, I was glad he did it. If not, I would not have seen this incredible sight.
There was – as you see in the picture – the prototypical Bengali babu of the yesteryears crossing the road. Adorned in his white “dhuti punjabi” and impeccably coiffed hair, he slowly but steadily went from one side to the other. He had a “johor coat” on to complete the Bangali babu look. This is in the middle of summer season!! It is a sweltering 95 degrees heat with humidity that will make you feel like you are swimming rather than walking on the streets.
What melted my heart was his unbounded optimism that if he just put his hand up, all traffic would stop for him. In his Moses like mind, he less crossed the road; he more parted the sea of traffic around him.
Alas! even this unimpeachable “Bangali babu”-ness has started crumbling down to the assault of modern civilization. The quintessential “jholi” has given way to a smart backpack. The half torn “chappals” have given way to smart, contemporary sports shoes!!
If yesterday and today ever were to come together, I was surely staring at it just about now!!
