“ Tor okhane jakhon khub thanda poreche, takhon dupurbela rode pith die komlalebu khaa r Sharodindu por.…….Kolkatai ekhon thanda porbo prbo korchhe, raate fan na chalalei bhalo hoy, bhorbela besh murisuri die shute hoy. R sondher dike ekta kuasha kuasha byapar o hochche.”
This is the excerpt of the mail I received couple of days back from Bu, my childhood friend. And from that point on, I could not think of any better way to spend a lazy winter afternoon otherwise.
Therefore to honour Bu’s advice, I am going to spend tomorrow just the way she suggested ie, no extra work, no cleaning, no cooking and most importantly no pointless worries about the fact that I may not be getting another job in this stupid country till I be 60 or the fact that until I reach 60, I have to dawdle off days taking tours in turn to the innumerable local museums and reading about the feudal lords and ladies most of whom by the way had extra-marital affairs with the sisters of their wives or brothers of their husbands respectively.
Anyway as I was saying-Tomorrow I am planning to have my lunch early, get myself a book (preferably a Bengali novel), cozy up in my favourite chair in the balcony, pull the mushy throw all over myself and soak in the sun. I may even go for an orange as she said. As I would peel the orange off, my hands would be smeared with the sweet smell of the orange. Cool wintry wind would leaf through my hair. By that time of the day the usual morning rush would be over, so the noise of the passing cars would die down and it would be more or less quiet except for the occasional gust of wind sweeping the fallen leaves across the courtyard.
I am hoping to while away quite a good many happy hours this way- sitting in the sun, reading, having an orange and occasionally looking at the leaves falling from the old tree by the wayside………until my thoughts would be seriously interrupted by the fact that I would not be feeling my nose anymore as it would be numb by that point due to the wind chill effect outside.
Jokes apart, as I read the line “ Tor okhane jakhon khub thanda poreche, takhon dupurbela rode pith die komlalebu khaa r Sharodindu por ……….” I felt so happy yet so lonely.
So many fond memories of the childhood winters kept flooding in. Thanks Bu.
These memories are neither significant nor memorable to recount though. But they are so dear to me. They are like sections of a huge collage where each section has no meaning of its own but together they make the collage so meaningful, so precious.
For example, one of such memories is of an old sugar cane vendor who used to come to our neighbourhood every winter. All through my kid years, I have seen him appearing as if from nowhere during the winter months. I have never seen him vending anything other than sugar cane and any season other than the winter months. Now as I reflect upon this subject, I reason that he might not have been a vendor in the first place, rather a sugar cane farmer who would come to the city each winter to sell out his excess produce. But at that time, he was like a Mystery Man, whom you may or may not see in the next winter.
My interaction with him never progressed any further than pointing to the particular sugar cane I wished for. But somehow he has become an indispensable part of my winter collage.
Compared to this, so many significant memories are completely washed out of my mind. I vaguely remember them as Ma brings them up time and again in context of one subject or other.
It’s as if the memory has a mind of its own, where she alone decides which incident is important enough to stay and which ones to go.
This is the excerpt of the mail I received couple of days back from Bu, my childhood friend. And from that point on, I could not think of any better way to spend a lazy winter afternoon otherwise.
Therefore to honour Bu’s advice, I am going to spend tomorrow just the way she suggested ie, no extra work, no cleaning, no cooking and most importantly no pointless worries about the fact that I may not be getting another job in this stupid country till I be 60 or the fact that until I reach 60, I have to dawdle off days taking tours in turn to the innumerable local museums and reading about the feudal lords and ladies most of whom by the way had extra-marital affairs with the sisters of their wives or brothers of their husbands respectively.
Anyway as I was saying-Tomorrow I am planning to have my lunch early, get myself a book (preferably a Bengali novel), cozy up in my favourite chair in the balcony, pull the mushy throw all over myself and soak in the sun. I may even go for an orange as she said. As I would peel the orange off, my hands would be smeared with the sweet smell of the orange. Cool wintry wind would leaf through my hair. By that time of the day the usual morning rush would be over, so the noise of the passing cars would die down and it would be more or less quiet except for the occasional gust of wind sweeping the fallen leaves across the courtyard.
I am hoping to while away quite a good many happy hours this way- sitting in the sun, reading, having an orange and occasionally looking at the leaves falling from the old tree by the wayside………until my thoughts would be seriously interrupted by the fact that I would not be feeling my nose anymore as it would be numb by that point due to the wind chill effect outside.
Jokes apart, as I read the line “ Tor okhane jakhon khub thanda poreche, takhon dupurbela rode pith die komlalebu khaa r Sharodindu por ……….” I felt so happy yet so lonely.
So many fond memories of the childhood winters kept flooding in. Thanks Bu.
These memories are neither significant nor memorable to recount though. But they are so dear to me. They are like sections of a huge collage where each section has no meaning of its own but together they make the collage so meaningful, so precious.
For example, one of such memories is of an old sugar cane vendor who used to come to our neighbourhood every winter. All through my kid years, I have seen him appearing as if from nowhere during the winter months. I have never seen him vending anything other than sugar cane and any season other than the winter months. Now as I reflect upon this subject, I reason that he might not have been a vendor in the first place, rather a sugar cane farmer who would come to the city each winter to sell out his excess produce. But at that time, he was like a Mystery Man, whom you may or may not see in the next winter.
My interaction with him never progressed any further than pointing to the particular sugar cane I wished for. But somehow he has become an indispensable part of my winter collage.
Compared to this, so many significant memories are completely washed out of my mind. I vaguely remember them as Ma brings them up time and again in context of one subject or other.
It’s as if the memory has a mind of its own, where she alone decides which incident is important enough to stay and which ones to go.
7 comments:
So well written Kutus ! we too love aankher ros and in our small township every afternoon a sugarcane vendor used to come and me and my friends used to chase him for "ankher ros " and also in winter afternoon soaking the sun was aritual for us ...are aar mone koreye naa ,dirgho nishas phelchi!!
Dear Mantu,
tomar comment ta teo khub sundor ekta description pelam tomar chotobelar sheetkaal er. akher ros er kothata bhule gechilam. ami chotobelai akher ros kom khete petam, akh er tulonai. ekbar bodhoi khub pet kharap hoechilo aakh er rosh kheye....tai aakh er rosh baron hoe gechilo.
kutus,
tomar lekha ta pore sottiy sei shiter dupurer er katha mone pore gelo. Christmas er chutir shomoy, pithe rod lagiye chhaat e boshe gopper boi porar anondo i alada.
Kutus,
Tumi shotti khub sundor lekho.I am in New York, and winters are way too harsh to even dream of soaking in the sun while peeling komlalebu ;-))..Kolkata-r sei mishti roddur, lebur khoshar gondho, ar Anandamela-r golpo..kothaye harie galo sonali dupurgulo..tai na? Akhon, bor, career, songsar..sober chintaye onek kichhur jonnoi ar somoy ber korte parina.Tomar lekha pore khub bhalo laglo.Keep up the good work.
Thanks Mumpy for the comments, it means a lot to me and a warm welcome to my blog.
kub sundor likhechis. khub bhalo lagche. mone pore jachhe sei siter dupurer kotha. siter dupure chhat e bose kamalalebu khawa.aaha............sei din je kobe asbe
Ranjana, purono post e tor ei notun comment gulo hotat kore khuje peye darun lagche. Thanks :)
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