Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Maize Seller

A bunch of burnt bricks.
A background of green trees.
A vast blue cloudless sky.
And a dozen of maize.

Tuli surveyed the place before she sat on her marked place over the dusty ground. Yes, the place is same. There the white spot on the branches of the tree. There the numerous pebbles, there a wrecked useless radio-set, and there far across the trees the pond.
Tuli sat down after a silent prayer. She don’t know whom she is worshipping but anyway she everyday prays.
For sale of these dozen maizes.
Sometimes, specially in winters a no. of dozens. It is very hard for her, a fourteen year girl to reap the maizes from the claws of Geetamasi, Khantamasi and others who are daily dealers of the maizes.
It is raining for some days.
Summer is about to take a twist and the monsoon is arriving. The clouds are flocked with grayish floating clouds, winds blowing a bit irregularly. Tuli sat and waited.

Cars are passing in high speed. Two ambassadors lowered their speed towards her but passed in a hush.
Tuli knew it is expected.
Now it is just twelve. Now a hardly car stops.
It is generally in the afternoon after two that maizes are sold.
Tuli felt happy that the weather is rainy now, her sale would increase today, hardly people like to have maize in a scorching heat. But once it rains it is a different story.
Though Tuli has managed only twelve today.
How can she?
Her brother Taataa is ill today, she hardly had scope to reach the dealing place of the market early morning,when she reached only this dozen was remaining.
Taataa didn’t went to school today.
The fourteen year girl thought a bit.
She needs twenty rupees tomorrow for giving Taataa, the school fees are in defaulter for last three months, if tomorrow she didn’t pay Taataa would be thrown out from school.

A sharp wind swept throughout the Ruby bypass.
From the western front a big towering cloud is galloping.
Rain is about to begin.
Tuli’s frock started waving in the air.

Looking far Tuli found that the world around her has turned grey.
The sky, the houses, the green fields, the ponds, the walking people everything is grayish.

And within the next sweeping wind Tuli went away from present.
She shivered a bit.
She is afraid of clouds.
She is afraid of this dark colour.
The nightmare popped in front of her eyes. The day when her father, a hawker died in police lathi-charge, protesting against ‘Operation-Sunshine’ was dark like this.

One year later when her mother eloped with Kashida that was also same dark, grayish day. Tuli came running home from school and found her mother has gone.
Then the whole world changed for Tuli.
Her house went, they became homeless and ultimately she took shelter in a broken
unused house. Now also she is using that same house.
Where else she can go?

Another splash of wind and the rain began.
It was accompanied with a furious storm.
The whole bypass got hazy within seconds the potholes of the road soon filled up and overflowed, the pungent smell of the Dhapa swinged in the air, the clouds in the sky coming swimming in.
After half an hour Tuli left all hopes of selling the maizes.
Until the rain stops not a single car would stop.
And the rain signals no indication of stopping soon.
Tuli took all the maizes and returned home.

And she got alarmed to see that Taataa is shivering in the splashes of rain and wind.
Tuli tried to cover all the broken windows with newspapers but water is soon droving away everything.
Tuli touched Taataa.
Taataa has very high fever and he is groaning in pain.
Tuli got puzzled.
What would she do now?
The rain is still falling and not a single piece of maize is sold.
Tuli started giving strips off water over Taata’s forehead.
She changed it again and again.

It is around evening that the rain stopped.
And Tuli sensing that Taata’s fever has slightly decreased ran outside again with the maizes.
She needs medicine.
And that twenty ruppeees.
She have to sale this dozen maizes.
She came running towards her spot.
Gathered the burnt bricks.
And then kept the maizes with their layers open.

But she had no luck today.
For the next one hour not a single car stopped.
It was almost eight Tuli felt seeing the colour of the sky.
White clouds are sailing in the violet sky as an uncherished dream.
Tuli prayed again.
For selling the maizes.
She is becoming restless at the same time.
How is Taataa?
Will she ran for a moment and look on him?
But what about the medicine?
Without medicine how will Taataa spend the night?

Paradoxed Tuli wondered what to do as evening slowly slipped into night.
The weather is looking gloomy again.
Wind very silent.
Sky sliced with clouds.

And at that very moment an ambassador stopped and from it two persons jumped down.
One person took two maize in hand and asked ‘Kto?’(How much?)
‘Char taka babu’.(Four rupees)
The person looked towards another person anthey talked something within eyes.
Then the first person said ‘Sabgulo nile ktoi dibi?’(What is the cost of this dozen?)
‘Sabgulo nbe babu?’(You will take all?) Tuli asked almost in a voice of disbelief.‘Ha’, the person smiled.
‘Bol ktoi dibi?’
‘50 taka babu’?(Fifty Ruppees)

And to Tuli’s wonder the person took out a fifty rupees noteand gave it in her hand.
The note trembled in her hand.
The person said, ‘Tbe toke pouche dite hbe.’(But you have to send it in a place)
‘Kothay?’ Tuli asked.
‘Ai samnei, tui garite uthe ae!’(Quite near, you come into the car)
Tuli shivered.
She know these languages, these looks,
Geetamasi always talk about these, about how she earns 100Rs a day sometimes!

‘Ki re chal’ The person came a bit forward.
A splash of wet wind struck.
Tuli thought for a moment of Taataa, his medicine, his school fees.
She needs money for everything.
The night is again filled with stitchy rainy winds.
The dark bypass has hardly any light.
Cars and trucks running in a hush.
The person hold Tuli’s hand, ‘Kire chal?’(Lets go)
Tuli once looked at the fifty rupee note.
Then she walked.
The person opened the door of the car.
Tuli stepped in.

After one hour when Tuli came back home her body is filled up numerous pains.
But still she ran towards Taataa.
Yes, Hec has again got high fever.
Taataa is unconscious.
Tuli soon gave her the medicine.

Outside it is again raining.
Tuli slowly lied over the floor and closed her eyes.
But she can’t.
She jumped up.
And sitting again looked towards the face of Taataa.
The colour is returning on the face.
Tuli went towards him and spreaded her hands over his hairs.
Beside Taataa lay his maths copy.
Tuli took it in her hand and opened it.
In all the pages there are right marks and comments written ‘Good’.
All the sums are right.
And in all the class test Taataa scored ten out of ten.

Tuli is going through the pages unconsciously, she is thinking of her own school days, she is also very dood in maths, she also scored full marks.

Suddenly Tuli felt a hand over her shoulder.
And she heard ‘ Ki dekchis re Didi?’(What you are seeing Sister?)
Tuli seeing Taataa coming in senses hugged him tightly
and said, ‘Kicu na re, kicu na!’(Nothing)
And then all her pains, came out as cry.
Tuli is crying, in one hand she is holding Taataa and in another hand his copy where Taataa has scored ten out of ten.

Outside rain is falling torrentially.
And through the innumerable cracks of this broken house waters are pouring heavily, from everywhere.
A drop of water failed on the sheet of paper.
She rubbed it.
Again another drop failed.
She closed her eyes and also the copy.
She did not want any spot in any sheet of this copy.
And also in the life of his little brother.


Monday, April 13, 2009


What should I say? Ecstacy? Joy? Or the first taste of recognition. May be whatever it is the fact is to cheer for me myself this is my first BLOG AWARD! Thanks Amritarupa for liking my posts..and my sensation and the passion with which my every words each letters are written..thanks for the recognition and Hey I would surely say that this award would inspire more to write well so that I can go on writing more and more..may be for myself and like such beautiful wonderful readers like you..

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Along the Norwester..

(This story is written on the basis of a true experience.)

The rain came suddenly.
Sanchita never expected that out of that maddening beauty of horizon , the mixing of different shades of red purple and blue would be replaced by dark grey clouds in such rapidity. Though the air spell that , even the sky showed the signs but as Sanchita was sitting with face towards west she hardly saw that arrival of heavy clouds.
And thus she was caught in the rain badly.
She is running fast, parallel to the river side. With big droplets of rain pouring, running is really not the easiest , specially for a Kolkata girl like Sanchita. She now began to curse herself for not bringing her maternal brother. Buro asked her multiple times to accompany her but Sanchita refused . She for the first time came to visit her own village , Rajpur , a mere spot in the district of Murshidabad. And thus she wanted to get a feel of the place and to enjoy the smell of the sowing crops , the wet fragrance of grass, the partial brown un finished Khowai road, the sound of tractors spreading water, the grazing of cattles in the field and obviously , the vast sky which gradually disappeared where the village ends only again to start a new beginning.
However her adventure has now most unexpectedly reached a climax.
She is running. Her hairs blowing , dupatta in wind, struck tightly to neck , her green salwar with her every step adoring new splashes of mud.
The wind is tremendous. The reddish appearance of the horizon has vanished with twinkle of eye, and it is replaced by diversified shades of clouds. And these towering Cumulonimbus clouds looks really alarming.
While running Sanchita turned her head to the river. The small river , which is a distributary of the Ganges is now adored with numerous waves. The level of water is rising with great force. There is not a single boat in the river.
But there were some. Just minutes earlier. The Majhi(boatman) know the signs of nature. And the evening light also has disappeared
It is really dark now.
Suddenly Sanchita stood still much in surprise.
As before her lay no road.
The path has vanished into scattered slums.
Sanchita confused turned her head and started walking in her right but again stopped.
Because suddenly in front of her a lantern is shown and somebody said her,
‘Odike noy!’ (‘Not that side’.)
Sanchita more surprised found that a young boy is standing before her holding the lantern.
The boy is tall, wearing a dhoti and a open-chested shirt. He asked Sanchita now, where she would go.
‘Mukhujye Bari. Tumi Cheno?(Mukherjee House, do you know the road?)
The boy didn’t said anything and started walking showing her the way.
The boy left the road and stepped in the sand.
Sanchita asker her to go through road but the boy said her that she is totally in the wrong way and for finding the right track they have to work some distance through sand.
So Sanchita started walking silently.
The outpour of rain has increased…. so did the velocity of wind…. grains of sands hitting eyes now and then…. the boy is walking slowly but gently…. his lantern caught in his left hand giving light to Sanchita…. The flame of lantern within the glass is shaking fiercely in this terrible wind…. a Deshawali song of a Majhi coming through the rainfed air …. the wordings still crystal clear…. water of the river coming in small splash and touching the feet of Sanchita and then disappearing in the wet brown sand…. the spots of her feet getting lost every minute in the mud with arrival of more raindrops…. Sanchita thought to cover herself in dupatta but it is of no use…. she is totally wet…. the sounds of thunder ….the flash of the stormy evening with a sharp bluish light.... Sanchita forgot about her condition…. she started enjoying again .. as if she is walking through the road of eternity..
She is almost getting lost in some other world…. when her hypnotism broke ….
She looked forward….
There is not a single soul in the riverside except two of them ….
And she heard that boy is saying to her….
‘Abar adike….’(Now this side.)
They left the riverside and took the left hand road.
And within five minutes Sanchita recognized the road to the house and within next five minutes they are approaching the Mukhujyebari , a renowned ancestral house of the village.
Coming near the door the boy stopped.
Sanchita felt that the darkness has increased suddenly.
She soon found the reason.
The light of the lantern has got out.
The boy is standing quietly…. his whole body wet…. Sanchita looked at him and thanked him and then suddenly took out a fifty rupee note and extended it towards the boy….
“ Na Didi….Ami ar janya..’(No, Didi.. not for this..)
The boy not saying a single word more , turned back and started walking.
Sanchita called him.
But he has gone.
He knows very well the way to the river.
Sanchita kept stranded in the rain.
She realized that she had done a wrong thing.
She should not have offered him the money.
She stared towards the ever increasing darkness and rain.
And at that moment she found her brother came running towards her with umbrella asking her where she was …. and ending…. ‘ You have lost the road certainly!’.
‘I did’. Sanchita said softly.
And then she told her brother about the boy.
‘Which boy’.
‘Who showed me the way from the riverside.’

His brother not paying any more importance took her inside the house.
But Sanchita decided that tomorrow she would go to the slums and find the boy and apologise to him.
She went next day. But she didn’t found him.
She gave the description, there are many like him but none was him.
Sanchita came back to Kolkata.
She went Rajpur many times after that.
But she never found him.
Ten years have passed.
Married Sanchita came again with her little son.
She is standing in the open balcony of the old house.
A beautiful view of the river can be seen from here.
Sanchita stood alone.
After so many years she still remembers that boy.
She now thanks God that she never found him.
Because she never wanted to meet him again after so many years.
She in this ten years have felt.. a truth.
That boy is an unique shelter to her.
Or may be..her unfulfilled apology has turned into an unexplained love.
The wind smells rain.
Sanchita closed her eyes….
She can see….within the horizon…. an evening storm…. a fierce wind…. a song of a Majhi….the trembling lights of lantern….a slow but gently moving figure of a boy…. his footprints….engraved in sand….
Sanchita kept on walking.


Monday, April 6, 2009

Goa with Her

There are moments when words became mere obligation and silence deserves greetings like merry Christmas. There are sounds which can only felt which can be listened in a world of different moods. There are scenes which can only be seen when you see them from the very roots and with an aroma of soil.

Well this introduces my desire for something which I would share with you. Maybe it has been shared earlier maybe we both felt it in a different way but still there are strings which are unexposed ,threads which needed to be unfolded.
Thus I would begin my experiences.

An experience about a woman.

But where should I begin?

Well maybe..the point where I saw her steps dancing on the floor of Paradise river cruise and ‘Mauja hi Mauja’ was in the air.. the point where her flowing green long-skirt sways over the Mandavi river in winds..the point where her silky features creating likings of unforgettable pleasures.. the point when she looked at me and the last ray of the evening sun with all its glow sheltered in her eyes..the point when she jumped up in joy seeing the adjacent Goa Marriot in lights..the point when we both danced in springing steps over the cruise..the vocalness with which she brought cashew from Panjim..the night at the poolside when we just relaxed in the lush lawn beside the pool and smooth canopy lights..the night when she dressed like an angel and we tasted wine for the first time..
She was a poem of reality always opening before me mysteries which as if she herself was unconscious of..

I found her again in totally different colour in Calangute beach.

She was just maddening in the thatched hat short skinny tops and capris on the beach..the appeal with which she sat on the umbrella shade with stretched legs..her hair getting dispersed in air much to my delight..her wet legs when she dipped in the sea and that too in a mood of utter sexyness..the hugging of her arms through the grains of silky sands floating in the air.. the calmness with which she shopped cutting bargains..her slow walk through the pleasant evenings and foreign tourists in Goa..she made her way along the busy Calangute market with such ease comfort and personality a sign of a confident woman..

And the pictures of beautiful Goa grow along with her.

The local cab driver Sanjay a handsome hearty fellow who spoke everything from wife to family,the fishermen who are always eager to help the tourists from any trouble, the young guy who lended umbrellas for sun-bath, the local poor boy who sells plastic parachutes for children through the night at the beach, the always helping shopowners,the local Christian holding roadside cheap stalls where egg bread and fresh breakfast are available,the historic Portugese Fort Aquada, the fantastic Taj Aquada beach, the coconut-seller of the DonaPauala beach, the arch like road of Panjim on the banks of the estuary of Mandavi river,the beautiful sea bath of Calangute, the bikini-beauties of the beach, the swarms of Foreign tourists helping Goa to earn foreign revenue,the beautiful temple of Mangeshwari,the oldest churches of Goa,the extremely beautifully constructed colonized villagetype roads of Goa, the markets of Calangute..all offering the lusture of visiting Goa again and again.

But I would write here about one very special night .

It was the best of the night we spend in Goa.
She was dressed in a off-shoulder alter-neck long frock and really from that moment the evening start appearing purple..the colour of the frock. She was looking like a goddesses and her beauty was spreading in shades of senses. Her hair looking like a fantasy organized as well as offering a spirit of sublime treasure, her eyes holding the depth of the green sea, her lips appearing wet as if all the moonlight has decorted there with their best shine, her neck as if a bend of eternity,her figure..a poem in which lyics are in full swing and rythms spreading the tale of many unknown mysteries ..
We had the best dinner on the beach..lamps glowing in temporary bamboo posts..cushions kept on sand..scent of wine roaming in air..winds in strings blowing..people passing deep blue..the sea-water inviting us..the sea-gulls flying..the resorts and the hotels behind us glowing like garlands..

We came back to resort and sat in the wonderful big verandah from which sea is totally in proximity.Below the resort was the hubbing Calngute market which now quite silent, though still tourists coming in numbers,couples coming in bikes with bottles of wine and whiskey and running towards beach,young guys just for chill out may be after a hectic day-out coming for fun,tourists slowly getting scattered over the beach,the winds blowing with speed, December cold now slowly grasping Goa by night,moonlight pierced by fragmented clouds softly touching the beach,far across the sea the colour of the sky and sea is almost same but still the sea a bit more deep and the line of separation..the horizon can be seen as the ships in numbers with their lights floating in line just like a uncherished dream,

She came close to me.
I touched her hand.
Again a poem was born.
The lyrics are open now.
The tune of continuation depended on me now.
Far across, the light of the lighthouse signaling over the sea to guide the wandering ships..and also perhaps to bring two souls closer..much closer..
I hugged her.
No more spaces between the distances.
The winds inaugurated the moment.
The light of the lighthouse again focused.
A bunch of seagulls went in a flight.
Some locals burst out in raw jokes over the beach.
The sea looks nearer may be tide is coming.
The moon flashed.
Again winds touched us.
And at that moment I kissed her.
A deep kiss to my woman, whom I love!