Humor
London Love: Last day
I did not marry a chocolate cream soldier. Chalk does not understand flowers, chocolates or gifts unless told to do so! For him, the essence of any strong relationship is mutual respect, loyalty and responsibility. I too value the more meaningful aspects of life than the frills. And somehow life without the fancy frills makes it more easy at my age. As for romance, I am Cheese the romantic, I can do double shift romance, both for Chalk and myself.
For Chalk and Cheese special days are usually no different from everyday, but their children feel differently. They want to celebrate their parents anniversary and won’t listen to any of our arguments. Last year we were in Pittsburgh with our son and he had made his parent’s anniversary extra special .This year our daughter, aka Kessari was in London with us. She had meticulously planned the day, keeping in mind what Chalk and Cheese liked, but most of it was her secret, to be revealed gradually. It was almost like a parents day out kind of feeling for us.
“London has to be seen with the ‘London eye’ ” ; Cheese had said this to her daughter at some point and the daughter had remembered! The first surprise of the day was tickets to the London Eye. Chalk, Cheese and Kessari Iined up in drizzling rain for the ride. The wait was long, the wind and drizzle added to the chill. A panoramic view of London slowly unfolded as the giant observatory wheel completed one circle in thirty minutes. For thirty minutes we sat in a capsule looking down at The Big Ben, Westminster, St.Pauls Cathedral, the majestic buildings of London and the river Thames reflecting the city and its skies like an old trusted friend.
Our trusted Kessari had made plans of taking us for shopping . We followed her to the The Harrods department store. The cursory visit was more out of curiosity than necessity. The merchandise were mostly very steeply priced. My choice was clear, between empty pocket and empty hand, I preferred the latter.
A friend had recommended the store Fortnum and Mason. The store was established in 1707 as a grocery store, it has ever since gained in reputation and inventories and now stands as a luxury brand in London. It is heard that the Queen Elizabeth ll, visited the store personally and that the store has been the royal grocer for a century. Kessari, my genie for the day was making me feel nothing less than the queen. So the queen mother of Kessari entered Fortnum and Mason holding her daughter’s hand. Fortnum and Mason was indeed a beautiful store at every level. It had a winding staircase leading on to different floors. The interiors were elegantly done up, there were delicate glass wares on display, teal coloured tea sets, napkins, bags, and so much more. I felt adequately tempted to buy almost the whole store.
A visit to these landmark stores was definitely not about filling the shopping bags. Cheese was melting with other emotions. My daughter was holding my hand and taking me through the different sections of the stores , as if I was the child and she was my mother. She kept asking me whether I fancied anything in particular and with choked emotions all I could do was nod. I already had my world with me, holding my hand and walking along, how could I possibly fancy anything more precious than this moment .
Chalk and Cheese had started getting a little tired after all the store hopping, they wanted to sit for a while. On any other day we would have loved to find a bench at Trafalgar Square or Covent Garden, but this day was different. Kessari had hidden surprises at every turn. She had booked a table for afternoon tea at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane.
The wide staircase with a red carpet welcomed us into the interiors of the theatre, almost like royalty. The tea room gave vibes of an old Victorian drawing room, an ideal place to sit back and enjoy a cuppa of English afternoon tea. But there was more on the platter than just tea. Elaborately layed out tables with the finest of tableware and delicate flowers had already set the mood for the evening. With touristy mode
footwear (screamingly out of place ) Chalk, Chesse and Kessari settled down to an evening of style. Tea was served along with three different courses of delicious savouries. The service and courtesy of the staff was impeccable, they also got us a cake for our anniversary . Keeping to the Coronation theme, pastries were shaped like the crowns of the King and Queen. Sitting in the heart of England, your Indian Cheese was biting into the sweet taste of the crown! What a magical moment indeed.
After such a stylish experience of afternoon tea, I felt my London trip was almost over. But the daughter had yet another special treat waiting for us. The celebration continued with a theatrical extravaganza at the Piccadilly Theatre London. As we took to our seats the curtains were still down but the artists were amongst us, gyrating in slow motion, enthralling us, captivating us; titillating the imagination of the audience till the curtains raised to the dazzling show ‘Moulin Rouge The Musical’. The colours, sparkles, glitters were as much on the stage as on our minds. The delightful performance of the actors and the craft of story telling got embedded in our minds.
It was certainly the perfect romantic fairy tale ending to our anniversary date. The curtain had drawn on the stage of “Moulah Rouge” and finally it was time to draw the curtains on our celebrations for the day. A beautifully packaged gift of love from our children, a day filled with wonder, grandeur and dazzle. Chalk and Cheese themselves could not have planned it any better.
Chalk and Cheese are now back in India, settled in the comfort of home and the routine of everyday life. Writing this series of Chalk and Cheese European trip would not have been possible without the support of my friends and dear readers. Your encouragement kept me going. I cannot end without thanking my son for constantly nudging me to continue writing. He has been my cheer leader and one man technical
support team in this entire series.
It is time to wrap up Chalk and Cheese tales for now. With a promise to come back with Chalk and Cheese when we travel again, signing off, your’s truly ….Cheese.
The End.
Turning Pages Through Ages
Waking up to London mornings, waking up to a wonderful feeling of anticipation of a new day, in a new city was slowly drawing towards its end. This would have been our perfect family holiday only if our son could have joined us. But perfection is an ever changing concept at its best. So Chalk, Cheese and Kessari made the best use of this vacation time by packing in as much as they could in the space of the given time. We traveled to places unknown; we saw what was unseen, and a lot more always remained unseen. The abundance of history, nature, people, culture, and much more could not ever be put into a box of a package tour. For me, each day ended with a tired body, yet a mind filled with so much wonder that dreams had no space to knock.
Reality looks like a dream when we walk through places we had never envisioned before. To stumble upon old traversed roads amidst lost forgotten forests, to find ancient monuments, or simply a church hidden at the bend of the road, such tranquil sights warms the heart and once more it reiterates, joy is in the journey alone. We drove through picturesque English countryside to reach the Warwick Castle and Windsor Castle.
Castles in the medieval period played a military role, battles were fought from here to protect territories. Castles were also the residences of noblemen. They were the epicenter of power of the ruler and a show of his strength. Warwick Castle was built by William the Conqueror near a meander of the river Avon. The proximity to the river helped to maintain good trade links as well as served as a tactical advantage point in battles. The high impenetrable stone walls of a castle guards the secrets of an empty barren world within . As tourists we enter this world to fill it with our imagination.
Windsor Castle (in the county of Berkshire ) is different from other historic castles. Windsor Castle has been home to royalty for over a thousand years. It is a working royal palace. Royalty still live here. Buckingham palace is the home of the King in the city and this is his home in the county. One section of the castle is open to tourists. We walk through the different rooms, the dining halls ( formal and informal), the meeting rooms , the room where the queen used to meet her visitors and so on. The grandeur and opulence of the place truly reflects the life of the royalty.
There is a doll house in Windsor castle which was built between 1921 and 1924. It was built for Queen Mary, wife of George V. The miniature doll house is a fascinating work of art. It is a miniature representation of the real rooms. The intricate detailing from furniture to crockery was absolutely amazing. From playing dolls to ruling a nation ,the royal life leaves their impression on our mind all the way.
As a testimony of buried centuries Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain stands amidst what seems like endless green fields. They are big vertical solid stones, set in a semi circular formation, and are prehistoric in age. Archeological research have different explanations to these remains. But to a clueless visitor like me ,they looked like massive stone pillars placed there in a symmetrical pattern. There are many variations to stories of how they came to exist in the present location, some mythical versions, some more research based. Stonehenge stands like a mystery of why and how but not eclipsed by the march of time .
As we followed the river Avon we reached the ancient city of Bath nestled in the river valley. Bath was built in Roman architectural style. The Roman Baths in England was once a religious spa where people came to worship the Goddess Sulis Minerva and bathe in the natural thermal springs. Bath is a beautiful city and deserved a longer time of stay to experience it in its totality. But alas, we were no more than passing tourists through a place which was centuries old.
As we drove out of Bath, Jane Austen was on my mind. Every house here looked like her house to me. In reality she had lived here for six years. I made a mental note to re read ‘Persuasion’ ( the novel was largely set in Bath ) once I got back home. Sometimes pages of a book tell us more about a place than a what we see as a tourist in a few borrowed hours.
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.”
William Shakespeare.
We were playing our part of a tourist, a traveler. We were not here to live forever but to carry the visions in our mind, forever. The bard was calling. We couldn’t come back from England without seeing Shakespeare’s birth town and his house in Stratford-upon-Avon.
Shakespeare’s childhood house was a small and simple house. Trying to understand the great bard’s life with one walk through his house was impossible. Reading an author is the only way we get to know them and also to understand a part of the world they lived in. Shakespeare’s plays were written for his time, for the Elizabethan stage but there timeless universal appeal makes Shakespeare and his work immortal.
The poets, novelists, playwrights who were born in this country through the span of many centuries, who wrote large volumes of work under these skies gave England and English literature a pedestal to stand tall in the world of literati. The universal appeal and everlasting relevance of great writers is measured by their work and not by the boundaries of the world.
Our Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, wrote a poem on Shakespeare to mark 300 years of his death. Tagore wrote in praise of Shakespeare that though born in England, his writings were for the whole world. Greatness and genius recognizing each other. In Shakespeare’s house we walked into that section of the garden where the bust of our Kabi Guru Rabindranath Tagore stood amidst trees and flowering plants. We spent a few minutes in reflection, paying homage to both the Bards in heaven.
The Oxford Dictionary and the Oxford Book Store in Kolkata was the closest I had ever got to the word Oxford. And then, there we were entering the campus of the prestigious Oxford University, the university of dreams for many scholars.
Of course, we were still wearing our tourist shoes which meant our time here was limited. The daughter had been to Oxford earlier, so she once again got into the role of Kessari tours. Chalk and Cheese followed her around like two young graduates.
Those precious few days in London city and around English countryside seemed like a kaleidoscopic vision of multi-coloured pictures. At a whirlwind speed, we roamed from one place to the other. So many times we lost ourselves in the beautiful maze of panoramic views, of history, of culture, of people and their lives. My attempt at recollecting and putting my thoughts down in words and photos is my way of
preserving memories for a longer time.
Chalk and Cheese had their Anniversary celebration in London. A beautifully curated day by our darling daughter Kessari, and that my dear readers will be the last chapter of this series.
To be continued….
Postcards from London
I entered London with my own baggage, the baggage of my Indian origin. From East India Company to the British Raj and then the Quit India movement, till 1947 August 15th the stories are endless. The first East India Company that set foot on Indian soil for business was a Dutch company, the rest followed them. But it was the British who stayed back and the rest is history. Socio political history always leaves back a mark on the generations who live through it and also on the generations who come after.
I was born in a free India but to parents and grandparents who had lived part of their life in the pre – partition and pre-independence India. Our history has not bound us to bitter memories alone, it has also shaped us in many ways than we would like to admit. Since then we Indians have resurrected our country to another level, keeping the sacrifices of our freedom fighters in mind. We have reconstructed our country and moved on with time. As I entered England for the first time, I held on to this feeling of being an Indian very strongly, lest it gets snatched away! But no, that cannot be. I carry my roots, my culture, my skin colour, my heritage , my passport, my identity with pride and dignity.
Moving on to Chalk and Cheese journey, our train pulled into London Station on a bright and clear spring morning in the month of May. Chalk and Cheese stepped out of the station and in grand style Chalk hailed a hackney carriage for his lady. No matter how much I would have loved a horse driven carriage but it was not to be. The black cabs of London were also called hackney carriage. Lady Cheese was learning a few new things in this English country trip.
Chalk and Cheese were extra happy on reaching London for a very special reason. Our daughter, our ‘chalk-o-cheese’ was waiting for us in London. She was visiting her friends in Cambridge and Oxford and had planned to join us in London. Chalk and Cheese were excited like two children who have finally been united with their parent ! Roles were reversed. When your children start parenting you in their small little
ways, there is something soothing and comforting about letting go of the reins in their hands.
Letting go has its pros and cons too, specially when you have an over enthusiastic girl guide and two semi tired parents. My little girl gave us exactly ten minutes break at the hotel to catch our breath and then commanded “let’s go”. She had reached London five hours before us but behaved like she had been a Londoner all her life . She was wearing an oversized orange coat, a pair of well worn out walking shoes, a sling bag around her neck and a big big smile on her face. Sprinting ahead of us in her orange coat she looked like our Kessari tour guide. Chalk and Cheese started following their darling Kessari travels through the streets of London.
The daughter, aka.. Kessari travels takes us to The Regent Park and makes us climb up the Primrose hill. A panoramic view of London greets us at the top. William Blake the poet who lived in London had written: “I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I have seen him on Primrose hill.” We sat there for sometime, not conversing. In silence, we looked into the skyline, the London skyline. Come tomorrow and we had plans to see London city and more.
The Queen was gone, the new king had taken his throne, coronation week was over and London city was getting back to normal. Our tour guide (an elderly lady and a devoted fan of everything Victorian) shared a royal secret with us. She told us that we were very lucky because all the royal jewelry had been brought back from the Royal palace after coronation and would be on display for tourists in the Tower Of London,
adding that only she knew about this piece of information. But standing in a very long queue to enter the Jewel House it seemed that a lot of other people were also privy to this royal secret!
Chalk, Cheese and daughter entered the Jewel House to see the display of royal jewelry, The Kohinoor and The Crown. Everything glittered, the gold, the rubies, sapphires, emeralds and intricately cut diamonds. But we are Indians, our eyes thirsted for The Kohinoor. We cannot ever forget how Maharaja Ranjeet Singh had parted with the Kohinoor, our Kohinoor. Every Indian sees a sparkle of India’s glorious past in the twinkle of that one piece of diamond. We also stood in front of the Kohinoor for those few extra minutes, trying to see the glimpses of centuries in those fleeting minutes.
A city is so much like a book. It has its own story. The roads, alleys, buildings, people, food, travel, all of them are like individual characters telling us a story. The more you walk, the more you learn about a place. We walked from Big Ben (not before standing there, craning our necks to look up in amazement at the big clock tower) … to Trafalgar Square. On our way, 10 Downing Street made us stop in our path for a
while, after all we do have an Indian connection in there, don’t get me wrong, I was only thinking about Sudha Murthy!
Later in the day met a very dear girl from India who lives in London now. It is very impressive to see how happily young people make a new place completely their own. We had dinner together at ChinaTown. China town because Chalk and Cheese were craving for some good chinese food, that familiar sweet and sour taste which would strangely give us home food comfort.
Like a typical tourist I entered random shops picking up souvenirs while impatient Chalk and Kessari waited outside. We walked around Trafalgar Square, we combed through Covent garden markets. Sometimes we got lost, sometimes we were happy to find a red bus back to the hotel. We were very impressed with London’s public transport system. The underground metro and the red double decker buses were certainly very convenient mode of traveling. Our dear Kessari made us walk, travel and eat like locals.
Sightseeing cruise on Thames took us along the city and under the, London Tower Bridge, Waterloo Bridge and Westminster Bridge. The British don’t pronounce Thames like you and me do. Their H is silent. I learnt to pronounce their Thames their way, and now I want them to pronounce Ganga the way we do at home and not call it Ganges! Seeing the London Bridge our age old nursery rhyme is bound to play through the mind …
“London Bridge is falling down…
Build it up with gold and silver,
My fair lady.
Gold and silver we’ve not got,
We’ve not got, we’ve not got,
My fair lady. “
This nursery rhyme revolves around the dilapidation and the rebuilding or repairing of the London bridge time and again. Wonder where they went in search of gold and silver? Anyway, my story is about our travels with our dear Kessari. Chalk, Cheese and daughter were yet to see the castles of England, the Roman remains of Bath, buried centuries at Stone henge, a visit to Shakespeare’s house in Stratford-upon-Avon. Our anniversary was coming up, and the daughter had planned a day for us. All this and more in the next London chapter.
To be continued…..
Summer Sojourn … Scotland
Packing completed, Chalk and Cheese bid adieu to Amsterdam, its canal houses , its tulips and head out for Scotland. All through the journey Cheese struggles with a suitcase which has suddenly developed a personality of its own; it simply refuses to walk along her side . Cheese is bending at an odd angle, pulling a reluctant suitcase like an unruly toddler. Chivalrous Chalk is walking much ahead of her, ignorant of her plight, for he is carrying the heavier burdens of the journey ! Lesson learnt , do not ever carry an old suitcase for travel, go ahead and buy a new one.
We reached Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland on a wet and damp day. As we set out of the hotel, rain hits us hard. Against the strong winds and gushing rains, my dainty umbrella turned turtle within minutes. I search for some shelter and luckily find the National Museum of Scotland across the road. Chalk on the other hand, with smug pride for his sturdy umbrella from Decathlon was behaving as though he had plans to cover the city of Edinburgh on foot, come hail or storm. However, we entered the museum ( free entry ) and spent an hour sheltered from rain and cold. To see some more attractions of the city we climbed on a hop-on hop-off bus. But soon realized that hop-off was not the best choice. The heavy rain kept us boarded on the bus. Sitting in the bus, with the rains blurring our vision, we caught glimpses of some impressive buildings belonging to the period of medieval architecture, adding much character to the city.
The next day we went in search of the hiding monster in the Loch Ness lake. The drive to the lake was long, through the scenic highlands of Scotland. The lake was quiet , big and peaceful. There are so many beautiful lakes in my own country, but we are not always capable of keeping it that way for long. We spoil our environment with our own doing. And here I was in a foreign country, sitting by a lake, feeling the silence all around me and thinking where we fail in our responsibilities when it comes to “Mera Bharat Mahan.”
We stayed in picturesque Scotland for four days. We traveled through Scotland by trains and buses. Learning our ways in a new country, finding new rail stations, bus stops, not losing our way through this zig zaw seemed like a mini adventure to Chalk and Cheese. Chalk was the map reader and Cheese was the observer. Journeying on unknown paths ,we were each other’s compass. The winding roads, lakes, green countryside all around, dotted with grazing sheep, the whole scenario felt like a motion picture. A cinema where the camera was rolling without any interval.
Nestling in the lap of stretched out lush green meadows, smokey lakes and undulating hills was a kingdom that I had seen in my imagination all through my childhood. This was a world straight from of the pages of the books we have grown up reading in our school days. Right from the beginning of nursery rhymes to those wonderful illustrations on the thick silky smooth pages of Radiant Readers; the pictures have always stayed back. Then we were introduced to volumes of romantic poets and novelists , pictures were no more a necessity . By then our minds had learnt the art of imagination. Words alone could paint a scenery and fill it with the colours of life.
From the first generation of Romantic poets like Coleridge, William Wordswoth and William Blake to the second generation of romantic poets Lord Byron, PB Shelley, John Keats, they had all lived in these surroundings and had been inspired by these unending landscapes. For me to behold the same intricate canvas of nature felt very surreal. The settings of Scotland brought to life the images of my imagination right in front of my eyes.
We traveled to Windermere from Edinburgh by train with one change at Oxenholme. Windermere has one rail station, connecting it to other parts of Scotland. William Wordswoth had opposed to the making of this rail station fearing it would spoil the beauty of his beloved Lake District. Our hotel in Windermere was perched on a small hill with a breathtakingly beautiful view of the meadows and lake. This hotel gave me the luxury of time, space and beauty. I sat there for hours in a contemplative mood looking out , reflecting on these fairytale days of life.
We were in Scotland on the coronation day of the King Charles lll. Social issues of the two countries Scotland and England can be different but their sovereignty holds them together.Though King Charles is the monarch of the United Kingdom we felt an altered narrative between the two countries. The English people, specially the senior English people had devoted sentiments towards their late queen, Queen Elizabeth , and were happy to see her successor on the throne. Whereas the Scotish people swayed between scorn and indifference about their monarch and his coronation. My summation comes from what I generally heard and saw amongst the everyday regular people of the two countries. It certainly has no political connotations whatsoever.
Since the ceremonial jubilation of London had not crossed the borders, the roads were not blocked, traffic moved unaffected, tourists did not feel it different than any other day. We peacefully moved around Scotland riding on Mountain Goats ! Ofcourse not literally, the bus company we had booked with was called the Mountain Goat. In a country where I saw more sheep in the meadows than people on the streets, this name seemed to fit so perfectly. The green landscape and grazing sheep, miles after miles, a few houses here and there, this world is surely fit to be a kingdom!
Scotland seemed to be whispering in my ears to stay on for a while. I was weaving unforgettable memories that would last me for a lifetime. We were driving through the English Lake District, stopping by to see William Wordswoth’s house in Grasmere village. We had time to stand and stare at the hills where he had seen ” a host of golden daffodils ” We tasted ginger bread from Wordswoth’s favourite bakery which still bakes the same bread. Amidst the fields I could imagine “the solitary reaper” bending at her work, ” to stop here or gently pass” was certainly a thought that will stay with me forever.
What is love I ask myself ? Is it not the pure emotions of joy and pain mingled together that I have nursed in my heart for years. The seed of romanticism, the seed of poetry , the seed of loving nature like a lover, were all planted years ago in my heart. With such happy thoughts and a content heart I move forward from one country to the other. London calling, will be the last chapter of this journey of Chalk and Cheese.
To be continued….
এক মুঠো পলাশ
“সারা রাত দুই চোখের পাতা এক করতে পারিনাই”, এই কথাটা ছোটবেলায় প্রাই শুনতাম আমার দিদিমার মুখে । শুনলেই মনে হতো ‘বুড়ো মানুষ রা এমনি কথা কেনো বলে, এমন টাও হয় নাকি, নিশ্চয়ই বাড়িয়ে বলছে ।’ দিন কেটেছে, সেই দিদিমাও আর নেই, মাও আর নেই, তাই তাদের গিয়ে বলতে পারি না ‘হয় গো হয়, ঠিক এরকম টা হয় ‘। আমি যে এখন অনেক রাত ওই দুই চোখের পাতা এক না করে কাটাই, এখন আমি বুঝি । দিদিমা না হতে পারি কিন্তু দিদিমা হওয়ার বয়েস টা তো হয়েছে, তাই এই ব্যামো টাও অল্প অল্প শুরু হয়েছে ।
গত শনিবার পুরো রাত রাতের পাখির মতোন ড্যাব ড্যাব করে জেগে থাকলাম। সকাল হতেই in house golfer কে বললাম, ‘আজ তোমার golf যাওয়া চলবে না। আমাকে গাড়ি করে ড্রাইভ এ নিয়ে যেতে হবে, তারপর কোথাও ইচ্ছে হলে গাড়ি থেকে নেমে, আমরা হাঁটব, তারপর কচুরি- তরকারি ,জিলিপি আর চা at Sharma Tea’। কেবল morning walk বললে কাজ হত কিনা জানিনা, কিন্তু ওই কচুরি জিলিপির টোপ টা কাজ করলো । তিনি একটু দোনা মনা করে রাজি হয়ে গেলেন । বেশ কিছু ক্ষণ এদিক ওদিক ঘুরে আমি বললাম ‘এবার গাড়ি থামানো হক, এখানে অনেক গাছ, আমরা একটু হাঁটি চলো’।
চালক গাড়ি থামালেন, আগে পিছনে করে নিপুণ ভাবে পার্ক করলেন। অধৈর্য আমি গাড়ির দরজা খুলে নেমে দাঁড়ালাম, আমার ভাবটা এমন যেন ওনার কারণে সিনেমার শো মিস হয়ে যাবে। চোখের সামনে সারি সারি পলাশ গাছ তখন আমায় হাতছানি দিয়ে ডাকছে, মন বলছে দে ছুট। আমার একটা বড় দোষ আছে, আমি যখন হাঁটি হন হন করে প্রায় দৌড়বার মতন করে হাঁটি, তাই আমার সাথে কেউ হাঁটতে চায় না। দেখে মনে হতেই পারে মহিলা বাস ধরার জন্যে দৌড় দিচ্ছেন। জোরে হাঁটি বটে, কিন্তু আমার মন কবি কবি ভাব নিয়ে প্রকৃতির ধীর গতিতে চলার আনন্দের মধ্যে ডুবতে থাকে । কত কিছু দেখার থাকে চারি পাশে। মনে মনে হারিয়ে যেতে যেতে আমি গুন গুন করে গেয়ে উঠি , ” রূপ সাগরে ডুব দিয়েছি অরূপ রতন আশা করি ।” আমার পাশের মানুষ দু চার কদম পিছন পিছন আসতে থাকেন, তিনি আমার এই sprint walking style এর সাথে নিজেকে মানিয়ে নিয়েছেন বহুকাল আগে ।
আমি অবাক চোখে দেখি , পলাশ গাছের আগুন জলা রূপ, তার উল্টো দিকে গোলাপি সাদার গুচ্ছ গুচ্ছ ফুলে ভরা মাধবীলতার সারি , হলুদ রঙের কলকে ফুলের ভারে নুয়ে পরা ডাল, আরো কত ফুল, যেন কেউ অতি যত্নে সাজি সাজিয়ে অপেক্ষা করছে আমার। কলকে ফুল গুলো আমার গালে হালকা করে টোকা দিয়ে যায় যেনো । চলার পথের ধারে কত রঙের বাহার, চারিপাশে ছড়িয়ে পরে আছে অগুন্তি পলাশ। মনে হয় আমার ওপর তাদের বড্ড অভিমান হয়েছে, এত দিন আসি নি বলে ।তাদের উজ্জ্বল কমলা বর্ণের ফুল গুলো মাটিতে পরে ধুলো মাখা মাখি করে জানান দিচ্ছে আমাদের চলে যাবার দিন এসে গেছ, বসন্ত চলে গেছে, তুমি আসতে দেরী করে ফেলেছ । মন টা কেমন যেন উদাস হয়ে ওঠে আর ভাবে ‘ইশ, আর কয়েকদিন আগে এলাম না কেনো ।’ আর ঠিক তখনই, যেন আমার মনের কথা বুঝে নিয়ে , মাটিতে পরে থাকা এক bougainvillea র ডাল আমায় ডাক দিয়ে, ফিক করে হেসে বলে, ”ওমন মন খারাপ করিস না, আমাদের দিকে চেয়ে দেখ, কত রঙে সারা বছর তোর পাশেই তো থাকি আমরা ,পাঁচিল এর গা বেয়ে উঠে তোকে দেখার জন্য অপেক্ষা করে থাকি !” আরে তাই তো, এই Kagaz ke phul ( যাকে আমি মজা করে বউ gone বলে ডাকি) ও তো আমার বড় আদরের। মায়ার টানের টানাপোড়েন , তার কি কোনো হিসাব আছে। আমায় টানে আকাশ, আকাশের চাঁদ, তারা, সূর্য ; আমায় টানে সমুদ্র, নদী, রঙের খেলা ; আমায় পাগল করে সবুজের নেশা, তবে কেনো পলাশ পলাশ করে কেঁদে মরি আজ। পলাশ যেনো কোন পুরনো প্রেমিক, যার সাথে রয়ে গেছে কিছু না বলা কথা, তাই তো সে তার বুক ভরা অভিমান নিয়ে টুপ টুপ করে ঝড়ে পড়ছে।
হাঁটার পথের এক পাশে খোলা সবুজ মাঠ , লোহার গ্রিল দিয়ে ঘেরা সেই মাঠ । সেখানে টিকিট কেটে ঢুকতে হয়, এত ভোরে সেই টিকিট ঘর খোলেনা, তাই মানুষ জনও আসে না। ওই গেটের মধ্যেই সবুজ মাঠের ওপারে, ছড়িয়ে ছিটিয়ে দাঁড়িয়ে আছে seven wonders of the world, ভোরের আলোয় ঝকঝক করছে , ছোট্ট এক পৃথিবী । আমার সেখানে যাওয়া হয় নি কোনোদিন। আমি যে wonders of the world বড় সহজে পেয়ে যাই আমার চার পাশে । এই ঝড়ে পরা অভিমানী পলাশ এর বুকে , কলকে ফুলের নরম ঠোঁটের আদরে , আর মন মাতানো মাধবী লতার গন্ধে, এর মধ্যেই আমার শহর,আমার পৃথিবী, আর এক রাশ ভালবাসা ।
গরম আসছে, সঙ্গে করে আনবে ঝুড়ি ভরা কৃষ্ণ চূড়ায় মাতোয়ারা নীল আকাশ ; অমলতাস এর পাগল করা হলুদ ডালের হাত ছানি ; আধ ফোটা বেলি ফুলের মালা ; আর জুঁই – জাগা রাত । এই রে, কথায় কথায় আবার রাত জাগার কথা ওঠে কেনো আমার মনে । বেশ তো হারিয়ে যাচ্ছিলাম মনে মনে। আমার মগ্নতার জগত থেকে ফেরাতেই বোধহয় পিছন থেকে golfer ডাক দিলেন, ” এবার কি ফিরবে?” বুঝলাম অনেকটা পথ এসে গেছি উদাসী মনে হাঁটতে হাঁটতে। জোরে হাঁটি বলে অনেক টা বেশি হাঁটা হয়ে যায়। ‘হ্যাঁ চলো, এবার ফেরা যাক’ বলে about turn করি আমি । ফেরার পথে এক মুঠো পলাশ কুড়িয়ে নেওয়ার লোভ সামলাতে পারি না , তাদের দিকে আরো কিছুক্ষণ চেয়ে থাকার লোভ । গাড়ি তে উঠেই মনে পড়ে যায় , কচুরি-তরকারি আর জিলিপির প্রতিশ্রুতি, মনে হল golfer এর মুখে দেখলাম এক টুকরো হাসি ।মন টা বড় শান্ত হয়ে গেছিল। রাত জাগার ক্লান্তি আমায় কষ্ট দেয় না, রাত জাগা এই আমি ফোন খুলে গান চালিয়ে দি :
“আমার ভিনদেশী তারা…তোমার আকাশ ছোঁয়া বাড়ি
আমি পাইনা ছুঁতে তোমায়, আমার একলা লাগে ভারী।”
Mishtir Dokan
Mithai is not just Mishti, it has a gastronomical chemistry,
And if you want to learn the origin, turn the pages of history.
Garma garam roshogolla, lazily swimming in a sweet pool,
The spongy melting delight, enough to make people drool.
Gulab jamun and Kalo-jaam are not at all the same,
Don’t get into a Mishti shop and say ‘what’s in a name’.
Kheer kodom and Cham-cham, coolly sitting side by side,
One with a mild flavor, the other too sweet on first bite.
Mihidana and Sitabhog, the dessert makers master stroke,
From Bardhaman to Kolkata, loved by every bhadralok.
Laddu and Darbesh, look alikes, but they are not brothers,
Jalebi and Amritti, two sisters from different mothers.
Sandesh hiding a little surprise in its heart is called Jolbhora,
To add variety to your chenna ask for Odissa’s Chana Pora.
And if you like it soft and melting, the name is Makha Sandesh,
Certainly a delightful entry, spreading soon in desh bidesh.
Mishti Doi in an earthen pot, Joy Nagar type Moa,
Malpua such beautifully golden brown, filled with soft khoa.
Pithe, puli, patishapta enters with winter’s divine Nolen Gur,
Aah to have these Mishtis on your plate take a Kolkata tour.
Who’s in your wallet?
When Chalk and Cheese were planning their long vacation in America, one obvious talk was about the expenditures ahead and how much money to take along.
When we say ‘money’ it is an all encompassing concept, something like ‘humanity’; undivided by continents and social structures. The word money may be universal but the universality ends there alone. The minute we start thinking in terms of currency, the divide crops in. The Dollar, Pound, Yen, Yuan,Taka, Rupee, the currencies line up together . And to see our dear Rupee standing way behind in this greased and slippery queue is not very enriching.
Since enough is never enough, Chalk and Cheese together settled for a certain sum which seemed reasonably ‘enough’ to them. We kept in mind our Rupees stamina and strength to run along with Dollar for a three month long race.
With a day or two left for our departure from India, I sat down one fine morning with a few Dollar notes spread on my bed, arranging them in my new wallet, and humming ” ye jo thore se hai paise..” when suddenly I heard a voice. I looked around in surprise and saw that the Rupee notes were peeping out from my old wallet and staring down at the new display of Dollars. I waited for Rupee to say something , for I firmly believed at this point “paisa bolta hai” !
With a hesitant voice Rupee whispered, ” Since you are about to visit America and now you are displaying all these fancy Dollars in front of me, let me tell you that though Dollar is my first cousin , I am not particularly fond of Dollar .”
I looked up with curiosity at Rupee and asked “But why so ? Isn’t Dollar the most accomplished, the most famous one amongst you cousins ?”
Rupee was quiet for a moment, then with a sad face it replied “That is the very problem with Dollar. Everyone thinks so highly of Dollar and success has gone to its head. In a brash and boastful manner it makes all other currencies, I mean cousins, feel very small and insignificant. “
Rupee took a deep breath and continued “And why will Dollar not get all the importance, when in my own country I am not treated with respect.”
Hurriedly I butt in “Of course I respect you dear Rupee, you were in my first pay check, you are in my life long pension, infact whatever luxury I could ever afford was because of you.”
Rupee was not listening to me, it continued in a papery voice, “Why blame others for being more powerful. Every big and small note, even the smallest coins in the mint are constantly living with the fear of demonetisation. You humans will never understand, how painful it is to be told without any forewarning that this particular note is no more noteworthy, it feels almost like amputation “.
“Well, some of us do understand your pain ” I attempted to reply, “As humans we too felt the pinch of demonetisation, all our treasured notes losing their value overnight was quite shocking. And then the adjustment with those pink, blue and green coloured new notes, it created so much confusion and anxiety for us !”
Rupee looked at me indignantly and continued ” Please don’t talk of colours. We did not chose to be pink or blue and not even black or white ! You humans have made us wear white and black as per your own convenience. “
The hurt was obvious in Rupees voice. I tried to calm it, and said somewhat reassuringly “I really value you dear Rupee, it is you who bought these Dollars for me, in a way it is you who will be going with me to America”.
Rupee was not calmed with my reinforcing chatter. With deep sadness laced tone it continued ” If you valued me so much, would you rush to exchange me in such a hurry with those proud-green Dollar notes? I feel so depreciated at this moment. You don’t care for me much, you are taking me to a foreign country locked in a forex card where my value will keep falling everyday “.
With that conversation with my dear poor Rupee etched in my heart I left India ; but I also made a promise to myself that while in America I would think in Rupees while spending in Dollars. No matter how loudly Mahendra Kapoor sang inside my head ‘ mere desh ki dharti sona ugle, ugle heerey moti, mere desh ki dharti ‘ , I knew the hard hitting truth that our economy was not doing the best, not when our next door neighbors could beat us in per capita income.
The day Chalk and Cheese had entered the United States a tired and somewhat rude immigration officer had asked Chalk “How much money are you carrying?” Quite an indignant question, I had thought. Chalk’s reply had satisfied the officer enough to give us an eyebrow raise and a nod. I had smiled to myself and thought, as tourists we can only add to a countries economy, and our Rupee empowers us to do so.
In the initial days of spending I would constantly multiply Dollar with Rupee every time I had to pay for something . Gradually the habit of doing mental math stopped because the more zeroes I kept adding the fear of numbers became bigger and bigger . The easy escape route was to forget the math. I started thinking of one Dollar as one Rupee. Somehow the familiar thought of spending in Rupee started comforting my mind. I started buying tomatoes with 4 Rupees, potatoes with 3 Rupees , eat out with 70/100 Rupees, and finished a lot of other shopping with just 100 Rupees. I had stopped converting. I was treating the Dollar like Rupee. As the multiplication stopped in my brain, everyday life felt more affordable and easy.
In a few weeks time Chalk and Cheese would be winding up their spread sheet in America and head back home. A home, where a daughter, mother, sister, brother, friends and family awaits their return eagerly. A home where…there can be songs on ” panch rupaiya bara ana”. A few Two-thousand Rupee notes in my wallet waiting to fly out for some hawa pani. Once home Cheese needs to call up dear Rupee friend to say that the Dollar sends its regards .
Someone new in the market called Bit Coin has started ringing the door bells of the currency cousins. For once Dollar is feeling it needs to say hello to everyone , after all family is family.
Of Evening Walks and more …
“Walk the talk” or “walk the walk” that is the quintessential question Chalk and Cheese are dealing with these days.
Cheese loves “walk the talk” and my business like Chalk prefers “walk the walk” , in absolute silence ! Long evening walks have become a regular routine for Chalk and Cheese in recent times. I love to talk while I walk, so much so that at times I feel I only go for the walk so that I can talk. To clear my own head, I ask the questions and I answer my own questions. I make philosophical points over simple matters and I admire everything around me, from the tiny flowers on the grass to the hills and river banks . Yes, I chatter, I chatter ceaselessly and the vantage point being that the partner can not run away from me, and I get to pretend that he is listening ! In reality, I am in conversation with myself.
In such a scenario what does Chalk do ? After being the subject of this “walk the talk” evenings, Chalk has come out with a new strategy. I have told you before that Chalk is the smarter partner ; so he has now beaten me to my own game. He has very smartly Chalked the walk ! To put it simply, he has come out with new routes, torturous routes (aah…the melting feet of delicate Cheese), for our evening walks. And guess what, he has succeeded in pushing Cheese into a silent zone. I walk beside him in a zombied mode, my mind racing but my feet aching, my throat parching, and the rest of the body groaning for attention. Well, he has silenced me during the walks but he cannot stop me from spreading the word here with my fellow readers!
With these well researched, longer routes and difficult terrain plans, Chalk has started enjoying the evening walks twice as much. Like writing on the classroom black-board Chalk tells me stories of his various adventures. I am his only disciple on these lonely roads. He tells me of his Indian Military Academy days, when as a young cadet he and his course mates had to do the Golden Ring walk in the hills of Dehradun. These young men would be left in the jungles with certain coordinates and some refreshments to find their way back , walking all through the night for more than ten hours to reach the reporting base at dawn. I hear in amazement and admiration. This most unassuming persona of my Chalk has so many layers to unfold. He is senior to me in age yet more energetic and more enthusiastic, an army man to the core. Cheese has stopped her non-stop chatter during her evening walks, it is more out of exhaustion than anything else. Cheese is learning the art of listening, her silence is rewarding her with sack full of stories.
At times we get lost navigating new routes, well as lost as one can get in residential sidewalks with Google maps on our phone. The son calls up once in a while to track us. Chalk tells him not to worry for his mother is with the ace navigator. What he says in jest is not very far from the truth. When he navigates I drive and when I chose to navigate he takes the steering, together we have journeyed quite a bit uphill and now from the plateau of life we are enjoying the view around.
In the coming week Chalk and Cheese will be traveling towards the east coast, we will be going to see our son’s university city and attend his graduation programme. Next week I will come back to you my readers with the story of another walk.The walk our children will take , the proud recipients of degrees in their chosen field of interest.There will be many parents sitting in the hall with me and there will be so many of them sitting at home and seeing their children through videos and photographs. I may not know you all in person , but at some level we have a common thread , our children. I will write for the children and their parents. I will tell you every tiny detail of what I will see, through your eyes and mine, it will be my own way to “walk the talk”.
Maiden Over
A week into the new life, new place and Cheese continues feeling like a “pardesi girl”. I am a total ‘pardesi’ in these American surroundings and being a ‘desi’ makes me feel in tune with myself. The Bay area has many Indians and seeing them in the supermarkets, the malls, the restaurants makes me feel quite at home. I don’t miss home yet, but I am missing two important people of my life! My everyday help Kamala bai and dhobi bhaiya. I go on washing dishes, pans, karhai, karchi and keep singing ” Meri Bai nahi aai, aaj Bai nahi aai, bartan pe jum gai kai”. Yes, yes, there is this wonderful machine called dish washer but I have been made to count its disadvantages more than the advantages. As for the dhobi bhaiya replacement I am trying to make Chalk feel like an Iron-man, but clever Chalk doesn’t fall for this word play and the washed clothes are piling up in waiting. Meanwhile the mischievous son is taking polaroid shots of Chalk and Cheese in ‘ghar ke kaam’ wala action mode and displaying them all around the house. There is no deleting of certain truths and moments. Welcome to American life Chalk and Cheese!
The other day, son took us to a ‘Kirane ki dukan’ a few miles from his house. The place is called “Bharat Bazar”. I half expected an Indian flag to be swaying somewhere nearby because the place had such strong Indian vibes. But no, and why should it be so, this is not my country. Americans love flying their national flag. One look into the horizon and surely there will be a flag or two swaying in cool breeze on top of some building, some home. The stars and stripes against the blue sky looks beautiful. But my tiny heart strangely aches for some saffron, white and green. I do not feel these ‘desh-prem’ type feelings in my day-to-day life in India. Is it my romanticism alone or does this happen to most people when they are removed from their places of identity? To cut short my Cheesy moment Chalk announces, “let’s have some phuchka at Bharat Bazar”, my Bangali babu..it is ‘golgappa or panipuri ‘ here, but what’s in a name…it is filled with those desi flavours which makes us say ” ye dil maange more.”
Talking of flavours and taste something happened last Thursday. We woke up to a rainy cloud covered day and the first thought that came to our mind was ‘khichuri or khichri’. These days major part of the planning process goes around food and kitchen. And for a quintessential Bangali rainy day and kichuri are almost synonymous. Chalk and Cheese also identify themselves with ‘ khichri ke chaar yaar. dahi, papar, ghee aur achar ‘. Well, once khichuri / khichri was cooked it was time for the chaar yaar. Dear Chalk doesn’t like his ‘papar’ microwaved or deep fried, he likes to roast it on an open flame. I suppose you have guessed it already my readers…the minute he started roasting the ‘papar’ the house got filled with smoke and the fire alarm was set off in a shrill loud and scary way. Chalk ‘ne aag laga di’, well, almost literally. Sonny boy and mama Cheese instantly started jumping around opening doors, windows, switching on the exhaust etc. All this while Chalk stood perfectly still and totally nonchalant. Endless cups of Darjeeling tea, Rabindra sangeet, IPL matches and that nonchalant attitude, I think Chalk has quite enjoyed his Maiden Over in America.
Playing ‘ghar-ghar’ in their new avatar Chalk and Cheese are bonding in a very different way and feeling strangely young all over again. This lovely energy of doing the unfamiliar things together is creating conversations we have not had in a long time. Back home in India we start taking home and house-work for granted, we enjoy the privilege of so many helping hands to do our daily chores. But living in a foreign country we start taking responsibility for those very chores of our everyday life. When Chalk walks upto the white board and scribbles something, a curious Cheese peeks in, it is a simple to-do list for the day. A bemused Cheese stands silently, melting in the warmth of this simple moment.
In this season of changes for Chalk and Cheese they saw their son’s transition from toy store hot wheels to another stores hot wheels. To celebrate this game changer day of our son we drove upto a Gurudwara, built on top of a hill, looking down into the valley. Amidst the absolute quiet harmony of the surroundings with the chant of “Wahe Guru”, “Wahe Guru” encompassing one and all, our hearts filled up with gratitude and love. May the ultimate master of the wheels of our destiny teach us the balance of life at every given situation. In God’s home there is no foreign land, there are no boundaries of countries, cult or culture. Chalk and Cheese are travelers today and tomorrow they will be homeward bound. In this in-between time let us collect more memorabilia than what can be filled in those suitcases.
Till the next blog, till the new places we see, till the bridges we cross, till the people we meet with their stories, alvida.
sangeeta chakladar 