brooding over chai

During our childhood, summer vacations were always spent with my paternal grandparents in our ancestral home in Burdwan. Every evening, as the sun went down casting a rosy hue around, the birds would come back to the trees which dotted our pond, the Hatipukur (Elephant pond). That is where they lived.   We could hear them from our balcony overlooking Hatipukur. “Kichirmichir…kichirmichir” we would mimic them.   And then everything would go quiet. Tranquillity would descend on the still waters of Hatipukur. Ma would hurriedly feed us milk and biscuits and gently shove us towards our grandfather’s chamber. He was a strict man, but gentle. Punctual and a man of few words, Dadubhai was revered by all. Deeply spiritual, our evening prayers were a daily ritual.   I along with my cousins would sit in a semi-circle chanting and singing Bhajans. They were all taught by my grandfather. Ma and my aunts would join us as well. You seem nobody could say a NO to Dadubhai. The sessions were also

Every morning at 6 am, Basanti gets down from the local train at Baghajatin railway station, Kolkata and walks to her destination. She is a house-help and the train line from Canning has been a boon to her.  Whenever our paths cross, I ask her, “Which train did you take today?” Pat comes her reply, “Didi, the 4.30 am Canning local.”  The word Canning intrigued me till I sat her down one day and asked her in details. “An old town, Didi. On the banks of Matla Nodi (river). I hail from there. You can visit the city and see the Saheb Kuthi.”  That was enough to incite the wanderlust in me. I kept looking for a window to visit Canning till one Sunday morning, the constant yearning for something old and historic took us past Baruipur in South 24 Parganas, West Bengal to the oft-heard city called Canning. It is the headquarters of the Canning subdivision.  THE RUINS Cruising through the narrow roads of South 24 Parganas, we came across the relics of two massive pillars. From afar, the rema

The sharp clang of the gates woke me up.  A tenant...AGAIN? Won’t they give up trying to occupy this property?  Rushing to the window, I see a young couple struggling with the lock. Hah! No matter how hard they try, no one can open it. Unless HE decides it.   The locksmith is called in. He tries breaking it. The gas cutter is summoned. He fails. And then I hear the CLICK, followed by whoops of joy. A chubby little boy runs in. I shiver. Why did HE allow them in? Clapping in glee, the boy makes his way in.  Wait! The vines...! They will strangle you. I stand in shock as the vines and the creepers make way for him. The tallest and the sinister of the lot stoops low to get a better look at him. I shudder. What if...? But the boy waves it away with his chubby hands.   The family starts climbing up the stairs. I am sure the creaking will arouse HIM. And then all hell will break loose. I look up at the potted plants hanging above the stairs. These little culprits have fallen mercile