A river flowed by

My ancestral homes are situated on both banks of damodar river. One in burdwan, the one in which I lived till 7^th august 2007 and the second one in the opposite side of damodar, where our ancestors lived for centuries. Our old, almost ruined home is there. Every year Durgapuja is held there with a huge gathering. Apart from that Kalipuja is held with a small gathering and every other puja is performed in the temples created by my ancestors.

 

Damodar is most probably one of the most attractive rivers in India, it’s a very wide river, but maximum proportion of the river bed is sand, with small streams of water running through them. Crystal clear water, sometimes just wetting your feet and sometimes upto throat or may be more.  We were terrorized by elders and villagers that there are shifting sands and other scary things so we never ventured much.

 

I personally believe that most probably sometimes the sand banks gave away beneath the feet of a non swimmer plunging him into very deep water without any chances of getting out. We have seen those sand banks without water, they are sometimes very high, fifteen or twenty feet, may be more. And just like any other sand sculpture they are always ready to crumble.

 

I have spent a lot of time in the companionship of this river. One of my favourite hobbies was to wake up before dawn and take the longest possible route to the river bridge, watch the sunrise there and return home.

 

During the durgapujas I used to spend a lot of time having fun on its banks with my nephew and nieces. Splashing in the water and playing with the sand. Or just sitting there and talking for hours. Watching the river and enjoying its serene beauty.

A neem tree

How many of you have had a huge neem tree in your garden? We had one, in our courtyard; I think it was older than me. I recollect seeing it when I have visited my home as a small baby. Then childhood memories are quite tricky, but its trunk was massive so it might have been older than me. It was chopped down by the same troll, the greatest troll I have ever met in my lifetime and am not very keen to meet another or him again.

 

Neem trees are really beautiful, a little messy because they shed leaves but they compensate by wonderfully fragrant flowers. I love the fragrance of neem flowers and they look very beautiful too. I used to put the branches in flower vase after storm, they stayed fresh for a day or two, without fragrance though.. only the beauty.

 

The branches of this tree touched our roof, and created a wonderful hiding place for me, I used to climb down on a wide parapet with a book, or walkman and sit there for hours. I could see the surrounding from the cover of the leaves but was only partially visible to others. It gave a sense of disappearance in the crowd.

 

There were lots of squirrels on that tree; it also invited parrots and other birds with its ripe fruits. Parrots and koyals used to come and eat those bitter sweet fruits, my siblings also relished them, I tried a couple of times but did not love them much. I preferred the flowers and the tree itself.

 

We used to climb it a lot before a creeper completely covered it, that creeper had thorns, so we were deprived of that joy thereafter.

 

When a tree is standing in your garden for years it becomes like a living being, someone you know, I wonder why trolls don’t feel the same way. These people have an inborn hatred for every thing beautiful I believe, and its really painful to live around them.

Summer

I am almost nonchalant about summer. As long as the power cuts are not driving me crazy. I don’t get much exasperated by heat. If I can stay away from roads of Kolkata and its buses I can happily suffer summer.

 

To me summer means my childhood days, the strict instructions from adults to not venture out in sun, to avoid sunstroke. We just waited for mom to fall asleep, and then were out in the garden. Sometimes stuffing ourselves with pickles, tamarinds or fruits from trees and sometimes running barefoot on the burning pavement to catch the kulfiwala.. the ice-cream man.

 

Summer noon in UP meant absolute silence, it was so hot that even birds did not made sound, sometimes a crow cawed breaking the silence, that’s all. The only sound we could hear in those three or four hours was the bells of the kulfiwala, braving the summer sun for livelihood.

 

The summer of west Bengal is romantic if you live in a small town, with trees and birds around you. People take a siesta because the humidity makes them drowsy. The noon are silent, all you will hear is birds calling. The doves calling their mates in a sleepy tone or crows and bulbuls calling out. In Toto it’s a dreamy atmosphere. To be felt from the very depth of heart.

Monsoon

I was born in UP and lived outside West Bengal for the first sixteen years of my life. Mostly in UP and Delhi, places which don’t have much rain fall. There rain is fun, joy and very quick affair, it pours and stops.

 

I shifted to the greenest district of West Bengal. Burdwan district is the greenest district of west Bengal and its greenery is a feast for eyes. It can be relished to its utmost if one travels in some local train from Kolkata to burdwan, a thing which I have done for years and it was awesome. To see those fields of luscious green paddy stretched on both sides is a heavenly feeling.

 

My home had a garden in frontage, quite a big one, with trees and shrubs of all size and shape. Before joining a job going out in rain is an optional matter, so I relished monsoon or rain fall for quite a long span of time. It was a real joy to watch rain pouring down on the trees and bushes, cleaning them up and leaving them sparkling.

 

When the rain was over the drops of water still sparkled on the leaves and bushes, just like small drops of pearl.

 

Rain is a really enjoyable thing if it lasts for a reasonable time-span and you don’t have to go out in it. Or the clogged water of street drains doesn’t enter your house. The greatest agony of a huge proportion of Kolkata residents.

Rain man

Its one of the cutest movies I have ever seen. A spoilt young man comes to know from his father’s will that he has given away all his money to a trust. He finds out that the whole money is given to his autistic elder brother through that trust.

 

He goes there, plots a plan that he will either win his custody or force the lawyers to pay him half  his father’s property. He coaxes Raymond, his elder brother to go away with him. Thus starts a journey, ending in Raymond’s winning love of his brother.

 

In the end Raymond had to return to the asylum because he was too sensitive to live in real world but he transforms his brother completely. He becomes a loving and caring person from a self centered, sometimes mean guy.

 

It’s a worth watching movie, a truly heart warming movie full of beauty of human soul.

 

Pets

Ever since my childhood I have had pets at my home. Of all types and species I guess, except reptiles and illegal ones. Name them, and we had them cow, birds, cats, monkey, cats, dogs, fishes, rabbits.

 

If you have a spacious house and someone to care for them pets can be great thing. But one should never have pets unless one really cares about them and is capable of taking care of them.

 

My cherished ones were a spitz Misha, a cat Cato, budgerigars and rabbits. Though I have voluntarily taken care of the pets of other family members but these four were my pet ones.

 

Misha was a very important part of my life. She needs special description so I will just leave her with saying that my family members used to call her my daughter.

 

Cato, I rescued  him from drain, he became a darling part of my life. Then just like tomcats he left us. He later came back once or twice but was scared of us then and did not stay. It was a great fun to have him around.

 

The budgerigars were very cute but I was happy when they broke free.

 

The rabbits were the cutest pets I guess. We bought a pair and soon our home had quite an ample number of their offspring. They dug their own holes in the garden and lived there. But we had to keep an eye on them, the moment we realized that the mother was pregnant we had to trick her to the cage so she could have her babies there safely. The first time she had her babies in the hole was horrible. It was lucky that we saw them in the drain, red ants have attacked those tiny things before their eyes were opened, we had to pull those ants out and place them in the cage with their mother. After that we kept a watch that she does not bring forth her babies in the hole. It was a great joy to see those tiny bundles of fur.

 

I really think that every spacious household which can spare some time should have some pet. They make our lives complete.

Caged Birds

I really don’t like caged birds. I have once bought a cage full of budgerigars and after that I decided I will never keep a bird in cage.

 

Budgerigars are fabulous looking birds, they look like miniature parrots with different colour, completely different from parrots, their main colours are white, sky blue, turmeric yellow, lemon yellow and green. They have to be kept in cages which will give them a little place to fly, if you hang some appropriate earthen pots inside their cages they breed in captivity.

 

I have kept their cage in a verandah attached to our kitchen, which descended on the courtyard. Flocks of parrots always came to my home, always trying to build their nests in the mammoth sized drain pipes which released the rain water from roof.

 

It really was tormenting to see the budgerigars clinging to the net and crying in response to their cries. I was really happy when they flew away one by one (of course without my knowledge) after breaking the net of their cage by their sharp beaks. I never bought birds again.

Of human bondage

I have read this story twenty years or so back for the first time. It was a little dull for me at the first go. But after finishing it I realized it was one of the best novels I have ever read. Then I repeated it and became confident that it’s the best novel I have read. Its still my favourite novel, of course there are half a dozen more in the same pedestal with it but none is above it.

 

I have learnt so much from this one novel, I too am a dreamer just like the hero of this novel. And just like him, I too have wasted a portion of my life pursuing a passion, an ambition which fell flat on its face due to lack of wind beneath my wings. But I have not faced the remaining tests faced by him because I fortunately had more control on my passions.

 

The hero is an orphan, who is brought up by his nonchalant uncle and aunt. A life without any one to guide him. To tell him what is wrong or right. The paths that he followed and their consequences. The lessons which we can learn from him are priceless.

 

I loved three lessons which I received from him, first, to know when to say goodbye to one’s passion, even if it is greatest passion of one’s life. He thought he was a talented painter so he stopped studying medical and went to Paris to become a painter, he was exploited amply by greedy tutors but finally he realized that he does not have the talent and went back to pursue his studies.

 

Second one was the cruelty which he had to face through out his life because one of his feet was defected. That taught me to practice kindness for those who are not blessed with a healthy body.

 

The third one was the greatest one, he fell in the clutches of an evil and cunning woman who shamelessly exploited him for years. But finally he settled down with a very nice girl. who did not had any physical charm but had a heart of gold. We all should learn from him that one sided love with a fiend will only shove you to hell, again and again, till the day you end that affection.

 

Fourth and final lesson was we can make our life a success even if we fall a hundred times in the path to success.

 

Finally I will suggest every one to read this book at-least once.

Maupassant

I have always admired Maupassant, ever since I read his story “The necklace” in my early childhood (translation).

I was gifted a compilation of his short stories a decade ago and have been reading it since then, I believe I have already read it more than a dozen times, finished it a fortnight back and am eager to start it all over again.

My admiration for him has shot up ever since I have started to write myself. I don’t call myself a writer, I just love to write. M y only alibi is its better to write something than watch movies to kill time. It keeps the brain active and improves one’s linguistic expertise.

Back to Maupassant, if any one asks me to crown my favourite short story writer, I will simply place my crown at his feet. He is a magician. With limited words he can stir any soul which is open. Make them a better person.

The more I read his works the more I become mesmerized, how easily and expertly he touches the very soul and illuminates them.

His stories are full of human compassion (not for very conservative persons, I should humbly warn).