“Heads, we get married; tails,we break up”- she muttered to herself
as she resorted to the silvery round object to take the decision for her.
She waited a moment, had a look on the dripping blood through the tube,
smiled feebly and flipped the coin up in the air.
Sunlight
pierced her eyes while she tried to open it softly. A hazy table with two
glucose bottles and few medicines on it; as she immediately turned her
head towards her right.. Rimli closed her eyes again and felt better. She
is too weak to keep her eyes open. Faintly she could understand her
mother’s voice talking to somebody unknown. "Oh God!! Is Ma crying? What
are they talking about? How long I was senseless? When I came to
hospital? Which Hospital is it?” All the questions which flocked
together in her mind stampeded as her mother’s whimpering -sound came
closer and that unknown heavy male voice said- “Control yourself Mrs.
Mitra. Rimli would begetting back her senses anytime and trust me it’s
very very early stage of ‘Leukaemia’and look at her age; she is young. I
bet she can fight off.”…… Mother’s tears-unruly!!
“Leukaemia??
Did he really pronounce ‘Leukaemia’or do we have nightmares even when we
are senseless??” - As if she at this moment is having no other crunch
than this word- ‘Leukaemia’ which suddenly smacked her whole world into
obsolete morsels. “Have I really got my senses back?”- Rimli tried to
open her eyes again to get the proof. Mother standing in front of her.
“Hey how r you feeling now?”- Mrs. Mitra managed to utter.“Absolutely
fine, Maa!”- Rimli with a grin. Mother smiled back and a
long mother-daughter conversation followed. “The visiting hour is over; I
have to go now dear. Will meet in the afternoon. Want me to get anything
for you?”-Mrs.Mitra pulled her purse and hurried towards the corridor.
“Just my phone, some books and my purse, Maa”- Rimli tried to wave her
hand steadily to her mother.
Tunir- a guy whom Rimli knows since
she was 20. They were college besties- an extension of each other by now.
It’s been 9 long years to this symbiotic relationship and when they pull
in to the fact that loving and knowing each other couldn’t be more, the
decision of ‘tying knot’ was axiomatic. It’s just one month left to ‘The
Day’. It’s just one month left for them to get married and it’s one whole day
of combat which Rimli faced with herself in this one day in hospital-“
to get married or not to?” Life seems so futile without Tunir. How would
she manage without “the name” which has blended thoroughly with each
drop of her blood? Instantly she votes for the marriage and almost
immediately in the next moment her perplexed eyes chance upon the channel
on her hand through which she is receiving blood into her body. She
realized she is left with no alternative when that each drop of her
‘baneful’ blood would abjure ‘the name’ from her life slowly and
she changes her mind saying to herself-“I can’t do this to him. I can’t
finish his life by marrying him.”And the battle continues
between No-i-can’t-live-without-him and
No-i-can’t-leave-him-alone-and-go.
“Thank you, Maa. It seems
ages I have not used my cell phone.” She promptly checked the missed call
list.7 new missed calls but none from Tunir. “Huh, busy man” she sighed.
It’s been a week she is not hearing from Tunir .He’s busy with his new
project. “Ok bye Maa, see you soon tomorrow.”Both waved hand to each
other and Rimli lied down, again bewildered. Astraddle, she decided to
toss.
It’s head. All the three times. Anxious and baffled face is
all blush-and-smile now.Relieved, Rimli leaned over the pillow on the
tilted bed and complacently checked her mobile phone. An e-mail on gtalk
caught her eyes. She runs through.“Hii, what’s up Rim?? Sorry, was tied
up in work last few weeks. Fever ok now?? Rim, it’s been a month I wanted
to tell you something and you know more that it’s no-go to keep back
from you. I know you will be feeling horrible of me but then as you know
I have none to bank upon but you and I knew no better way to convey than
to mail you...Rim, I think I have fallen for Esha.... I know it’s
obtuse just a month before marriage but ...”
Remaining text- blurred..!!
She is
sitting inert, immobile- coiled up in one corner of the bed putting her
head on her knees. The white-face gazing vacantly on “Ashok Stambh” of
the coin as if there is no end to it.
But “Head” it was....!!
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| Photo Courtsey: Author |
“Yes you heard it right, I hate winters, I said”. My instant answer
to my friends when asked about my season-preference. To answer those
gaping-faces my list of reasons will invariably start with- i) Sokal-bela-ghum-theke-otha(waking
up in the morning) and folks, this ‘morning’ thing can vary between
6.30AM to 11AM; I mean whatever the time may be, I have difficulty to
get out of bed. ii) To muster the courage to get into the washroom for
bath and if it’s‘shampoo-day’ my diastolic will surely range between 100
to 120. iii) My perpetual migraine/sinus flogging me every now and
then……. And the list goes on.
But when sat to write about something and making people count on my dislikes only; well, that would be injustice and ‘Gandi Baat’
as Shahid Kapoor would say.And when pondered on the fact, actually in
an eye-blink my zero-power-bulb-face changed to 200W-power-bulb when
plenty of things gushed out of my mind and queued in front of my eyes.
Few of them are:-
Dhowa-otha-shokal (smoky morning)-
Being acompulsive ‘can’t-eat-it-hot’ person, this is the only part of a year, I wouldlook forward to anything “dhowa-otha”. Starting from the foggy morning and its glee of haziness all around to “dhowa-otha-cha-coffee-bhat”(hot tea, coffee, rice) or whatever it is, it’s such a pleasure to eyes in these chilled days…
Bichhanay pahar (Hilarious Hill)-
Winter
means a mounded structure in one side of your bed which would be neatly
covered with your bed cover and I call it ‘Bichhanay pahar’- right from
my childhood till date. All the Lep, kombol (quilts and blankets)
get a place on the bed itself and forms a‘hill’ like structure. Isn’t it
the same scene in yours’? My favourite pastime in my childhood used to
use this ‘hill’ as a slip and slide. I used to go to the top of the heap
and slide away from there and no reproving would stop me doing it
iteratively.
Hathe khori-
I
spell it- S R E E M O Y E E…pheww!! So big aname I used to think, I
still think and I am sure will be thinking in all thecoming winters.
It’s my easy and mirthful substitute of tattoo which can onlybe done in
winters—writing your name with your nail on your dry skin!! Thosewho do
it, know the bliss and those who have not, what are you waiting for?
Winter to me is about assorted smells all around. Notungur (molasses) or Nolen gur totop the list, Robbar er-mawton(Sunday’s mutton),peas kochuri, fulkopir-torkari(cauliflower)
would closely follow. Those who are convinced by now that I am an
obsessive gastronomist (though I am), there is no reason to do so as I
am equally charmed with the smell of other things too; like i) the smell
of‘Pears’ soap in almost every house in this season. Very typical of
Bengali household, I suppose. If they are mall- goers, its ‘Pears’ and if
they are like my father (local bazaar goer) then it would be ‘Chasme glycerin’;
and however irked I get to get into the bathroom these days, it won’t
stop me to play with the almost-finished-brown-oval-thing which gives me a
‘golden vision’ whatever I see through it. And I love it. ii)
Gyada-ful-er-gondho (marigold’s smell)iii) Another one which I miss now
in winters is Amma’s (paternal grandmother) smell when she used to stand
in the sun after bath. The atypical smell which is a mixture of sun,
water and the Keo-Karpin oil she used to put before bath. Awesomeness.
Chhat-Dupur, Khola chul aar Horek Ful (Roof-cheer,damp hair and tinted flower)-
Chhat
is phenomenal in winter atleast for Bengalis. How I love the
chat-scenes all day-long in any random Dec-Jan days!! Pink, Red, Yellow,
Blue, Purple-name any colour and you get it there, bordering the
rectangular area. We call it season of flowers. Marigold, Dalia, Rose of
different colours- you will definitely get them in Bengali chhat in their
Sheetkaal (Winter). A lazy afternoon, a warm-hearted sun, a straw-mat spread in the middle of this flower-bordered chhat and you let your
hair down and sit in midst with a book in your hand when cold, gentle
breeze flurrying your hair and the chirping sparrow cutting the silence oftenly- how about that? Lonely yet content? Tranquility which is
euphoric? Well, in my word- Divineness.
Mela-r mela (Fair of fairs)-
Colours,
dust,bubbles, bhepu, candy floss, crowd, Rabindra-sangeet, the buzz-
so very known!! Trade fair, Lexpo, Expo, Handicraft fair and many more.
Whether you have something to buy or not, missing any of these is no less
a crime.Then, comes the winter-Durga Puja, Bengali’s life support
system; publicly known as ‘Book Fair’. “Ashchhe bochhor abar hobe”
(will be happening again in next year) is the only affirmative that aids
us to survive through all the five seasons to reach winter again.
Did I say I hate winters?? Did I? Click the ‘Ignore’ button then. Winter wins!!
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| Photo Courtsey: Author |
