Over a Cup of Tea

Everyday morning on my way to office I would stop to see if she is there on the street. I know, I cannot avoid her eyes, she will definitely catch me the next day. Sometimes, I explain, that I am already late for my office. She won’t accept, she would say, ‘You require only 2 minutes to spare’. I can’t tell her, but I know, I would spend not less than 10 – 15 minutes if I stop at her place for a cup of tea.

‘You are also not there always?’, I asked.

‘What to do! If I stay longer at a place, they will demand money’, she said.

‘You have to pay tax wherever you go’.

‘I pay ` 50 every month to the police’, she said, ‘But still there are many others who will demand ` 100, 200, anything now and then…….sometimes, I pay’. ‘Sometimes I can’t, and I have to move somewhere else’.

‘Then why do you come back?’

She passes another Bhar (earthen cup) of hot tea to me. By that time, another two customers gathered around her stall.

‘Where is Asha?’

‘Must be there somewhere around’.

Asha is Nilimadi’s youngest daughter. She will be of my daughter’s age. Four years back when I saw her first she was only 5 years old. Nilimadi had put her into a free school under ‘Sharba Shiksha Abhijan’ when she was 6 years with the help of a local youth leader.

‘When does she read?’

‘Whenever she feels like….. I seldom see her reading books’, she said.

‘She might be busy with her friends!’

‘No, she plays on her own…… with sands, bricks, broken utensils, whatever she gets!’

It will be more than 2 years when Nilimadi moved out of her rental house at Mominpur, with her daughter Asha, for being unable to pay rents. After that, their house is on the Nandalal Street, near Hazra. Her only son has shifted to Delhi 5 years back in search of job following the death of Nilimadi’s husband, he doesn’t maintain any contact thereafter.

Nilimadi’s husband was working as a painter under a contractor. He fell off from a multi-storied construction site and died on the spot. Contractor paid ` 10,000 as a compensation after rigorous follow up and with the help of a local municipal councilor. She could save some ` 4000 in a post office in her daughter’s name.

Our office has shifted to Hazra two and half years back, since then, I have been using this street. If you cross her small dwelling on the footpath you will often get flavour of her tea. She prepares only in small quantity as she has only a small kettle. It was this flavour which compelled me one day to taste a sip of tea! After that, whenever I was early for my office I used to spare a ` 2 coin and one day I realized that I have become addicted to the tea bhar.

‘Where are your belongings?’, one day I asked.

‘Why? ...... Its all here only!’, Nilimadi says with her low voice.

I could see, a small roll of clothes packed in a black plastic placed in a broken wooden box. There is another small bag which is of her daughter’s, filled with pieces of clothes, some torn out exercise books, two dolls, few old plastic bangles, two small pencils, etc.

‘Asha won’t allow anybody to touch her bag! This is her world, whenever she is unhappy, she will sit and play with all her precious belongings in the bag.’

Asha is an intelligent girl, well aware of her situation. She tries to remain happy but sometime demands small things from her mother. She would demand biscuits which are kept in the jars for sell. One day, she was angry with her mother and won’t speak. I could read her face and felt there is something wrong!

‘What happened Asha?’

She didn’t reply. She got busy with her exercise copy pretending not listening to me. I repeated…..

‘What happened dear?’ ………. Still no reply came.

‘What happened to her?’, I asked her mother. She also won’t reply.

‘If you don’t answer, I will not ask’, I said.

‘Nothing big’, Nilimadi replied. ‘She gets one biscuit everyday morning……..but today she wants more’

‘Sometimes she is just stubborn, not ready to listen’, she continued.

‘From today, give her 2 biscuits on my behalf. I will pay for it’.

‘No, no why shall you pay!’ Nilimadi felt shy.

‘Please don’t mind, she is just like my daughter. I don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t want to hurt this child either! Give her two biscuits whichever she likes’

Nilimadi asked Asha to choose which one she wanted. She won’t look up, at us either!

I choose two biscuits and asked them to be passed on. Her mother offered the biscuits to Asha, she was feeling shy too and looked up at her mother. Nilimadi nodded her eyes giving her confidence and pushed the biscuits into Asha’s hand. I could read her face changing with innocent joy…………

 To be continued......

Calcutta! Oh Kolkata!

Calcutta! Oh! Kolkata! I don’t exactly remember when I first traveled to this city. Probably, I was yet to join a school….I still remember, we had to change train at Farakka, crossing the river Ganges on a ferry. Rest part of my visit I don’t remember much. But, I remember, my visit in the year 1977, when television, black & white TV became an object of wonder guest in some Kolkata houses! To watch a Saturday evening Bengali movie, I had the privilege of getting front row sit on the mat, being a guest. Room was made dark with lights switch off, all windows had to be kept open on the street side to facilitate the neighbours. Countless known, unknown neighbours will gather at the windows to get a glimpse of the show. They were more popular than the reality shows of today!

Every time, I visited the city, I was falling in love more and more with the old, colourless buildings, streets, tram, even local trains….Shyambazar 5 point crossing, etc, etc and yes the friendly people. Whenever, I cross the Howrah Bridge and the river, Ganga I felt myself transformed to a spiritual world, I felt the presence of great saints like Swami Vivekananda, Shri Ramakrishna Paramhansa and many more who baptized the city. I felt the presence of great heroes of the country like Netaji, Deshbandhu Cittaranjan, Bagha Jatin and innumerable freedom fighters, great scientists and many more… I felt their blessings whenever I stepped into the city, I wished I could stay here one day!

Now, that I am in the city from last 4 years and more, I am really nostalgic about my past days. City is more colourful, more faster, more glamorous and attractive, and yes more populous! City has got many changes definitely positive changes but…….somewhere, I still search the old Calcutta, the city of my love! City has changed her name, rather her people have changed her name. But that’s not all! People have changed their minds too!! Sometimes, I walk down the streets to search for something I don’t know. People around have such a change in their attitudes, in their behaviour, activities that, I keep asking in my mind, where is that old city of love and joy and affection and warmth? Everything is different, everything has changed so much, its not the same place to live in or the place I wanted to stay, the place I desired to stay so long!

While walking down the streets, I searched to find the reason why it has changed, where it has changed? I could find a simple answer, its us who have made this change! Yes, we are the cause. Its us who have changed in our attitude, changed our priorities, changed our choice, changed our look towards other. Its us, who dirties this city streets, spits here and there, cross roads never at the pedestrian crossings, cut down trees, throw garbage in the beautiful lakes…I can really not finish the list. City is all the same, she has not changed herself, she is still the one who makes you fall in love. Just listen to her, she will say, “See, I am all the same, in my heart! Come to my lap, I will hold you!!!! I am all the same…..”

Spread the light in the darkness

Sanjukta was restless in the Deepawali evening, she was eager to fire the crackers given to her. Her bag was consisting of few tara-batti, charki, toobri, phool-jhuri, etc. This was given to her as  an annual allotment and more as a parental responsibility!

Around 7.30 PM, we went on to the terrace to carry out the burning of crackers. We are living in the sub-urbs of South Calcutta where surroundings are greener and numbers of sky-scrappers are also scanty and far away visible. The evening is ornamented with decorative lamps, LEDs in different shades, different shapes in all directions. People, seem to forget all their problems, miseries, and just need an occasion to come out of all these and celebrate.

Sanjukta was keen to finish all her stocks, but every time she was hiding behind her mother when a cracker is burning out. Around us, crackers were burning, bursting restlessly with big bangs hitting our ear-drums.

Within an hour, air around us got heavier, visibility getting reduced gradually. Bright decorative lights which was lighting up the sky were getting fade too and I was finding it difficult to breathe. Surroundings were getting darker even at 8.30 PM and air around appears to look foggy. Darkness seems to gain strength!

Lights, colours and brightness of Deepawali seem to loose its vigour over the human nuisance. Its difficult to imagine how much money has gone into the fire to-night. I could just pray, for the sake of God, if only fraction of that money we could have saved and spent on the poor on the streets. They must have all gone on hideouts tonight for a safer shelter!

In India, we have so many festivals throughout a year that they become a boon for the economy. If we spend, some are definitely going to earn. This money will spread smiles to the lesser privileged ones.

Returning to my flat, I took news-channels to see the celebrations near and far. News-headlines declare, 30 people arrested for bursting banned crackers. A little latter, another news flashed, a slum area at Kalikapur burnt down to ashes allegedly, due to fire crackers! One injured and one child lost.

We know how to start, but don’t know how to stop, where to stop. We surrender ourselves when good turns bad, when beauty turns ugly. We forget our responsibilities that we need to raise our voice…..