Connecting the dots

While in Palolem, in Goa I saw a man one day practicing with a bow and arrows, on a target made out of a tree stump. As our eyes met, he did a Namaste and asked me where I was from. That's a question not many outsiders ask I thought and I smiled wondering if he would understand if I told him from where I was, or where I was not and if at all it would make a difference. To my surprise he elaborated you see India is a big country and every part has something to add to the whole picture. I asked him where he was from & he said he was from Norway, staying in Goa for 6 months now, trying to find himself and his God and practicing archery while at it. He says that here, in spite of being so many or perhaps because of being so many, you have not lost your way..

I mused to myself and told him that while, outsiders often come here looking for God, for a way, many of our young have lost that way and in fact look at the west for 'upgrading' themselves. He looked at me quizzically and said "perhaps in this haze of drugs, of spiritualism, of diverse people, I shall find something..or maybe when that haze lifts..it shall be emptiness, till that time I shall try."..I asked and said, "like your arrows trying to break the block of wood to find more wood?"..he smiled and said, " See, you are one of the dots that join & it is precisely for this, I am here"..Spooky, Philosophy, ..India?

( Image courtesy Google)

A boat ride with a Pakistani

On a trip outside the country, you meet different kinds of people from different countries..but most of all you meet Indians, from back home. On one such trip, we were in a boat. Several other tourists had also come along, amongst them three couples were from Delhi, a Russian couple, a rather large family from China, a small family of three that I couldn't identify apart from our own. Through the trip of of about an hour, the Delhiites screamed, broke every rule in the book, the Chinese talked nineteen to dozen, the Russians appeared offended about everything in general, while I watched everyone. Its strange how you can place people, their backgrounds, their likes, dislikes, their moods, a bit about their ethnicity, some bit about their nature if you observe them for a while. It was the small family which caught my attention the most, because I couldn't really slot them. Very Aryan looking, the wife in a demure Salwar Kameez, constantly smiling, shy yet seemingly fun, a very well behaved child & a seemingly caring husband. They broke no rules, had their fun and kept to themselves. They spoke in what sounded like a strange mix of Urdu..I wondered idly if they were Kashmiris. About 45 mins into the journey, the wife suddenly turned to me and asked, "Where are you from?" I identified myself as an Indian. She made a silent 'Oh' and pointed at the Delhi-ites and said, we knew they were Indian but got confused about you'll. I asked her in return, "From where are you?" She smiled and said, "From Pakistan". I said to myself, 'no wonder they look so familiar, like a long forgotten fragrance'..For a woman who had hardly spoken through the hour, her parting words made me smile. As she left the boat she said, "kabhi ayiyega, itne bhi alag nahin hain hum"( come visit us sometime, we aren't all that different)

( Image courtesy Google)

Dig-Boy-Dig

Have often asked myself about why I've never written anything about Digboi, the one little word that has had such a sustained effect on me. Perhaps because it's just too much to encapsulate, or perhaps because it's difficult to pen down thoughts that are an essence away... whatever.... some intentions however lazy, justified or just well... ought not to be met and I have been trying to do just that!

When I think of Digboi, there's one recurring scene that always flashes by.. childhood memories that refuse to burn out.. they'll stay till my grave.. LOL cause they r connected so with the graves. Twas this place up a small hill, for the lesser informed :) Dubbs para, small homes( note they are not houses) almost on the edge, just about a push away you'd say! Some times meandering sometimes zig zagging it leads to a small but serene grave yard. We were about 9 of us and we would regularly haunt those guys and at times play games with their souls too.. how? Hide & seek of course. Weird but nice we called it, grotesque and stupid they found it.. who? the elders of course.. we were admonished threatened and everything else in tow.. but somehow we found it peaceful there. I talked to a 6 yr old once, lying there for ages.. wondered if he was ever bored and wanted to kind of pop out and join us.. now that would be something.

My fondest memories are of a spring day, about 4 in the evening. It was still light, there was a strange calm along with the wind that bl owed on. Am talking of days pre'Titanic'.. :) ( lest u think i copied!) I stretched my arms & took in that absolutely fresh air.. oh! it was almost orgasmic in perfection. No wonder I never get over it, not till today probably never..
Most Digboities will tell you stories of snakes in the toilets, leopards in the backyard & Elephants in the foreground.. but hey nothing prepares u for the one big mother of all picnics that Digboi turns out to be. With Swimming galas & flower shows, silks & chiffon's & parties & then some parties & more! In Digboi there are no end to the parties & they don't make them as boring as anywhere.. swear!
The animals of course are a different category altogether & u have such variety of flora & fauna. While there were the loveliest of birds from the smallest & teenie winnie blotch in red to a sparkling sunshine yellow..never got their names & don't see the necessity now either.. twas & always will be a pleasant whiff & a blurr come to sniff my Bougainvilleas in full crimson bloom. And then there were dragon flies, oh! how those little creatures drove us crazy..
My den in times like these and whenever wherever, were the beautiful lustrous branches of two Thusa pines that graced out in the front garden and made for a welcoming twosome. They 've shared with many so many an orange, flights of fancy of EnidBlyton & Tin Tin and then M& B's galore. Their gentle swaying while lulling me to sleep gave me dreams worth a life time, oh what a swish set they were...:)
With the slight snip in the air and chilly October winters, the smell of the shewli on my mind and pujo came rushing in. Pujo was to me as much about the Mother with the ten hands coming home, as Baba was with the Dhak, I with the Kartal Ma at her Mandap, me staring at the carpet of white shewli and the khichuri of the pandal. In the dance and the drama that was Digboi, of the silent hush of the elephant steps in the dead of the night.. of a fairytale childhood, of a paradise.. lost but probably gained in more ways than one, Digboi was never the oil field to us it was the only HOME we knew :)

© 2009 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury