A tale of a Safety Pin

I was meeting a friend. We had talked several times over the phone but never seen each other. Naturally the excitement of meeting was that much more..would the person be like what I had thought him to be..etc etc crossed the mind. We were supposed to meet at 3:30 in the evening I was there before 3:15..after a few minutes I looked at my watch and nodded my head like a penguin tsk tsk still time to go, before I could officially call him late( as if my life depended on it!) I stared at the glitzy mall, upturned nose, pitying everyone in general who seemed to have suddenly discovered retail therapy. It was Durga Puja time & the place was Kolkata, South city mall to be precise. Every one seemed to be having a great lot of fun by screaming at each other and posing in front of the doll like Durga that had been created inside the mall.

Bored of criticizing everything that came between me and my elegance..I sauntered off. I had decided not to be overtly traditional & wear a weird( only I knew that) something that could fit into both Eastern OR Western OR neither..after all I was meeting a photographer! Ohh yes my friend in question was a photographer and a rather good one at that. And of course I HAD to put on all my airs & behave the fashionista ( you know how it is with the woman who dives at her last chance..kind of). I had white cotton trousers on and smiled at myself ( from what I thought) rather elegantly. I had decided to walk and taking a bend I reached a saree shop and saw some giggling girls. I decided to put on my mature best & introspected the saree hanging on the showcase for any flaws.

All of a sudden I realized something was wrong. I looked down at myself..what could it be? To my horror and elegantly raised eyebrow-ish disgust I realized that my cotton trousers were loose and threatened to come down. Which moron had said cotton trousers were fashionable?

I delicately placed a leg in front and one at back to test it out..the trouser slipped a bit..I looked right and then left. Had anyone noticed my faux pas..God! I decided I needed the mother of all inventions the 'Safety pin'. A long time ago I had heard my mother say that she wished to give a Nobel prize to the one who had discovered the Safety pin..for it's sheer versatility. I had secretly laughed at my mom that day. ..Today I knew what she meant. Incidentally, I always carry an over sized bag so that I can find anything I want when I'm out. The problem is that the bag which resembles a well, never comes up with anything on time...To be fair to it's history, the bag did not deliver today too. I pressed the panic button, what could I do. I couldn't hold my trouser's while I met my friend..had coffee..shook my hand with him..etc etc..insane questions rose in my mind..could I pass it off as the latest pose? Hand in the waist etc?

I decided to buy a safety pin, after all it was a shopping mall. Just that no one had taught me that a shopping mall sells everything but stuff that you need..stylishly placing well manicured hands on my trousers, in a manner that no one would notice, I managed to walk an entire floor. But there was no trace of any Safety pin! What were these people, idiots? Didn't they know the importance of a Safety pin in a human being's life? Cursing at a beaming doorman and howling babies..I made my way in and out of shops...It was 3:40, never had I been so glad that anyone was late! I decided to give him a warm bear hug for being late.. delirium was not too far off..I could understand.

Suddenly I had a brain wave. Most Bengali women have a habit of tagging a safety pin to their bangles ( the red and white ones) I curiously looked at every bangle that every woman had the bad fortune to wear that day. Alas! Not a single one had any safety pin attached to it..what was wrong with Bengali women..they had forgotten their culture..their traditions..I was furious..worthless creatures all. By now I was desperate and ready to howl..all my attempts at fashion flew out of the door..I felt like screaming..doesn't anyone have a small safety pin in this huge mall! I had another brain wave..The loo!

For the uninitiated, a woman's loo is not only a loo..in fact it is just 'also a loo'...women frequent a loo more to sweep their locks from one side to another..dab more lipstick..touch up their make up..etc. I was delighted with my brainwave. Some functional woman ( unlike myself) was sure to have a safety pin after all. I entered the loo with an eye-full of expectation...My woman's brain scanned and slotted every woman into categories like most women's do...young girls were less likely to carry safety pins..I was searching for someone..middle aged..( of course I was never middle aged!..goodness gracious me NO)

To my horror no one fitted the description. Sick and desperate, I announced in the most charming way possible to everyone in general.." does anyone have a safety pin?" There was pin drop silence..a girl brushing her hair giggled ( I saw her funny bone of course & stared back in appreciation) No one seemed to have answers..they slowly nodded in the negative or mumbled a "No". Suddenly a guard entered, as I watched her, she was the only one who had come in to pee, I found. The girl who had giggled put down her hair brush and said, "ask her, she might have it".

No sooner did the guard open the loo door I blurted, " Do you have a safety pin?"..on a second thought I added 'didi'..after all everyone was a didi in W. Bengal. I also added immediately, I'll pay you for it. To my astonishment, the GREAT woman slowly nodded her head and said " yes I think I have one in my bag, but you have to come with me to the staff room" She also added, " Madame I may be poor but I can surely give you a safety pin, you need not pay me for it" Extremely embarrassed I assured her that I was in dire straits and had only meant to be polite. In that moment of insanity I thought of poetry and compared my situation to the bright sun peeping out of dark clouds..maybe I could write a poem on a safety pin too! Wow..Lunacy wasn't far off..

As the guard marched me to her quarters, she soon scanned her bag and unlike mine found a bunch of safety pins smartly. She gave me two, saying in case you need one again, smiled and went out.

The phone rang, my friend was here, I looked at my watch..He was late..I raised an eyebrow..tsk tsk.

( Image courtesy Google)

'Shewli'..The fragrance of Durga Puja

The year was 1988, we had shifted to a rather huge house in a small district of Assam called Tinsukia. The Britishers of course made sure that wherever you stayed if you are working with oil..it has to be massive.. As a little girl, settling into that house was rather cumbersome. Everything seemed to be so huge for the tiny me. Walking down lawn tennis courts and garden full of Hollyhocks I found myself keeping a distance from them. In those days, your house was yours only as long as your dad's next transfer..and under the circumstances, I always founded a nook in the garden that I could make mine. Strangely even three months after the shifting I had not found my nook.

But one fine day, something happened that changed everything. I woke up in the morning, it was early October, a lovely chill in the air surrounded by early morning mist. I shivered a bit in the chill, and went up to the window. Suddenly I saw a vision in white. In the driveway of our home, a rather ordinary green leafed small tree had been standing for long. It had neither the beauty nor the flowers to attract one. But suddenly that day I saw it anew. On the ground near the tree was a carpet of white! Every bough in the tree was covered with tiny little white flowers with a trimming of orange as if defying their colorless existence and laughing in mirth at the foolishness of man for not having noticed it for so long. As I stared at this wonder in stupefied silence..I suddenly ran down to see the tree, to touch it in loving reassurance that this was reality.

As I stood beneath the white tree, I was in for more surprise. from the tree came the sweetest of smells that wafted into me a dance. I closed my eyes and in reverence of the white bed took of my shoes and sat on the bed of flowers soft.

Ma told me later that day that these little flowers called 'Shewli' in Bangla were the first heralder s of the Durga puja..perhaps the quintessential welcome of nature to the Godess with ten hands. Over time plenty of things have changed for me..the house, the childhood, the dreams..what didn't was the memory of the Shewli tree that had welcomed me to the Pujos and the essence of their beauty..till today every Durga puja has me searching for Shewlis..the little white flowers that welcome the Goddess.

© 2011 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury

( Image courtesy Google)

Molesting our dignity

Sipping on my morning cuppa of chai, I glanced through the papers and sat up at the horror of what the front pages screamed! Airlines personnel in Kolkatta airport molesting a 9 year old child! The accompanying graphics showed a little girl with a doll in one hand and the shadow of a man lurking near by. Being a mother of an 8 year old, i was shocked and horrified to say the least. I thought of my innocent Guria building her sandcastles on the sand and land of fairies in her dreams, I shuddered in disgust. Whatever happened to words like Humanity, self consciousness, etc. the news continues on the lines of the man being released on a bail of a aimlessly sum of Rs 1000, pittance for the shattered dreams of a girl who would be hounded for life with nightmares of someone feeling her up. Parent or no parent, recognising the dangers lurking around innocence in every corner of the world, just waiting to pounce on some innocent is a thought that can send shivers down any sensible person's mind. We talk of so many things in general but how can we be so callous about such things which matter too. Airlines opinion puts it down to drunken behaviour on part of the man. Will somebody tell me why a drunken man was allowed inside the airport premises in the first place. Next time a plane crashes and we could say oh the pilot was drunk! Now that would be nice! Why are we as a nation extra casual about most things and we seem to have too much of patience for such things and ridiculously less patience when it comes to giving time to our children or spouses. Its time we woke up collectively and as a whole and voiced our protests against all these wrongs. If we are ever to protect our children and give them a free and safe environment to live in.

Living on while moving on

living on while moving on

Its strange how a city quietly but surely envelops you. When I descended in Kolkata from the hills of Assam, in December of 1998, I was all set to hate the city even without knowing it! For all i knew it was alien land, that took me away from the cat like languor of Assam. As smoke curled around me & dreams crushed into a swirl called RUSH hour, I learned my first lesson..MULTITASK. From the contours of the lahe lahe desh & everything mushy mush, Kolkata taught me to be confident, to speak to give back a word or two when it was necessary. China town & Biryani from ‘Zeeshan’ not withstanding I still did not find an anchor in the city. It seemed to just whirl by, no one to stop, show me the way or take a hand & brief along.. and then happened a few friends. Very eye opening incidents there; I understood why I wasn't really accepting the city or it me. I did not find its roots, did not see it from the perspective the grand dame wanted me to see it. My friends from Kolkata introduced me to the love of Rabindranath all over again to a girl who had wandered way beyond..and more. To see what Rabindranath is, one has to see the songs in the people's lives, to see it in their smiles, their absolute rapture in him & there he stands in all his glory much like the lady wrapped around Victoria Memorial. Draped in white as I met my friends at one such do, one asked me, do you know that the Lady within & atop Victoria resembles a lady in white on a misty morning or a rain drenched afternoon.... I wondered wow! poetic.. the tale of Phuchkas , of trams rambling by, of Jug Surya and his 'Calcutta remembered' on a lazy afternoon, of Park street nose in the airs.. of being seen in Flury's, of Nahom's lemon tarts & so much more.. i was introduced to a 'Calcutta' truly forgotten & one I had never seen.

Today I resent the word BONG, I think it does no justice to what the proud Bengali is all about. In a matter of time I left the city, I was beginning to know & probably like. I landed in Chennai & all over again prepared myself to hate with equal passion, equal zeal. Nothing had prepared me for the problems of simple communication staying within the same country. Talking to the maids was playing dumb sheraz, my English was limited to 'Going’, 'Coming', 'you saying' and many more such ABCD's. Gosh how was I to stay here, I wondered and then my ever catty curiousness surfaced again. I started making friends. In a swish apartment with the crème de la cream of Chennai I found to my surprise a set of people culturally bestowed, very intelligent & friendly to the boot! Oh boy I said this is fun.. An ex Spaniard Tamilian (figure that out!) lady of 60 is my inspiration.. she teaches, does yoga, walks faster than most men, dances salsa, makes sand castles & jogs keeping her Vodka in mind.. I was floored. She urged me go take a walk & a walk I did take. Being a mall hater, I avoided them like plague; I took to the little trodden routes of a place steeped in tradition & austerity called Mylapore. Full of Brahmins worshipping & curious glances at a 'ME' playing tourist with a cuppa chai in hand, I managed to make friends of toothless grins & tilaked Brahmins. I knew not what they said when they talked in Tamil I though it was polite of me to reply in 'Bangla'..English flowed faster that way & so did Hindi to my surprise :) Dotted with little temples & little flower sellers, Mylapore is a traditional delight. From Coffee being poured out to you & slurping it loudly ( not sipping mind u) its Indian ness at its lovable best! Marina beach & its myriad sights has become second home, grannies playing with youngsters, lovers coochie-cooing, joggers like me & the surf at my nimble toes, the sea & its mightiness is but awesome. Pretty & pouting in the afternoons, flirty & sexy in the evenings, dangerous & siren like wanting to drown you at nights.. one can just stare & stare at the sea. A few cultural evenings here and there, a delightful potpourri of enthusiasts & discussions galore Chennai seems to have come alive to me & I to it.

Man is a delightful social animal after all, the more he/she mixes the more they like, the more they resent the less they figure. A lesson well learnt that place or man, looked & known the good way both can be endearing.

© 2009 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury