Blood sugar used to run in his veins, insulin was a regular habit, inflexible movements and blank watery eyes had made him look awful. Someone had said me that it was termed Parkinson's . Late at night he used to yell my name and we would understand that it was the time to change his catheter. Just a few months before, he had an accident in his toilet and his flamboyantly successful  sons had decided to mend his broken  ball and socket joint.
A doctor acknowledging his high blood sugar operated him with an assurance that he will be fine. But who knew that the old man would never be able to walk again.....Bedsores smelled like dead insects, room freshers were an excellent option for his wife and his younger son......The man was humiliated every moment and his every humiliation awaits an explanation till today......He was my dadu.
                                                                                             It was a day before my midterm exams.....i heard that the thin hands stopped moving yelling my name.....the hands that taught me to walk, to write and even to fight were still.......It was unbearable to see his closed eyes......But i was too stubborn to accept this loss. i expected him to come back, but i could never see those eyes expecting my foot steps at the door...
 



 

History repeats itself

My kaku had been my role model since childhood...he was an ultimate bohemian....when he left home, i was hardly seven..all that i really remember now was that my thammi never spoke to anybody since then...i found everyone in a melancholic mood but the discussions faded away in a couple of months...along with thammi's last trip to Kashi Mitter's ghat....
Nobody's life changed after her demise, only Mishtu, the pet parrot shouted all day long from its cage pointing towards thammi's room......The poor thing hardly realised that her share of nokul dana was never to come again.
                                             I slightly remember that it was an afternoon when  i had asked my mother, "where did Thammi go?"....she was busy checking some exam papers and replied me in a haste that she went for a holiday....and i was stupid enough to believe that. Late at night i silently checked my steps and went to console Mishtu as i thought she was missing thammi and nobody realised that she was also sad....The fine line of difference was that she was not able to speak and we spoke a lot...  There was a  shiver which ran through my spines when i last saw Mishtu......she flew away....and i ran upstairs leaving the open cage in dark.....That very night i could not sleep......
Mishtu's disappearance hardly bothered anyone....except for Jethimoni, who kept on calling for her throughout the day......to my utter surprise, i did not feel guilty....
                                                                                                         In my monotonous life, a silence often spoke to me.....when i saw the burning ambitions of my male cousins to bag an IIT or IIM degree and also the unbearable desperation of the female ones about getting married before their wrinkles are prominent.....i felt pathetic.
Being conventional was just not in my blood....and i was not very late to prove it....
We always love blaming other people for things which are the spastic brainchildren of our own selves.....so did i.....Pessimism was growing up in me fondling with each and every tender incidents.....It was a Bijoya dashami....when i gifted myself my first bottle of Beer. 
It was not a big deal after i had opened it....only the bad part was that the whole thing was caught red handed. The mobile network had failed and dad had to come to the terrace and over there i was
gladly finishing my drink......A hard slap was strong enough to get rid of all the intoxication ( though i hardly had a bit of it)......but tears did not roll down this time....dad was clueless,furious and said to my mom that nobody other than his brother had dared to do this kind of a nonsense.......The other members of the family were either busy discussing about my horrible act(though it was none of their business) or they were happy that they had a new gossip for a few days.....Jethu just said  in a low voice....History repeats itself.....and trust me, that very day i had realised....why kaku left home!~!!~


                            


 

Being IMPERFECT

Extra boozing never really made me feel real good....neither did the stuffs like online chats and net surfing comforted me anyway. I needed a sleep but was strongly resisting that since a couple of nights. Early morning when the old ferryman was going out of his slum towards Ganga, i just felt like walking with him. My impulses never betray me and when half of the city was busy sleeping,  i almost fell in love with the seducing cold of Kolkata. Last night had been really miserable , the dim lights were tired of consoling me...and i was tired of convincing....Yes! i have been convincing myself more than anyone that life should be "PERFECT". I kept on asking myself a thousand times that why do we need to make things perfect? i believe that the answer never came to me, may be because i was too scared to live with the truth. I always wanted to do something that made me happy...i had the courage to start but could never make a proper ending. And today overcoming all my fear i opened the back door of my house...and just felt the fog. Shivering in the biting cold of the city, i started my journey to Ganga.. I was heading towards KASHI MITTER'S ghat. without cell phone, purse and past.
When i reached there, the ferryman recognised me and was surprised  to see me bacause nobody but the morning walk folks were seen there at that very hour in the morning....i had to go through a small interview and the ferryman (if was educated enough) could have been a tough competition for the journalists of today.I somehow managed and escaped him and went for a stroll.....the cold stairs attracted me and i sat there....the approach of the sky was different. No commitment of sun was visible, and i felt that last night was disturbing me again.....though the feeling was better....i wanted to know more...it had nothing to do with the river or the sun or the ferryman...all i needed was to know myself.....a little better...
                                                  Last night for the first time i realised that i am tired of making things perfect....dad wants me to fly abroad for masters....mom wants me to get married to an eligible
bachelor of my choice in a few years......my boyfriend is immature enough to declare an engagement......but i don't think i am prepared for either of these...after a dozen of fags....and a frozen head, i preferred to keep things as they wanted to be....but failed to resist a sip of the morning winter.
                        It is almost 7.30 and i am lying on the boat( i managed the ferryman for a ride and promised to pay him back when he goes home in the evening).....lying beneath the sky....i felt once again that i was very much dear to my own self...and i cannot deny that i love being IMPERFECT.....and will always love being that....Cheers to life!!