(This is a pretty old composition of mine... Well, three months old... I was dealing with the double whammy of the departure of my boyfriend for his first sail- he's in the Merchant Navy, and a death of a grand uncle, just a coupla weeks prior to that. This granduncle of mine was from Kolkata. Hence the mention of the city)
There’s something about a goodbye.
It’s one of the most unwelcome
things in one’s life. But a goodbye can sometimes be one of the best things of
a person’s life too.
Sometimes, we get so immersed in
our lives, that all it takes is a departure to bring the focus back to what is
important. The departure of a near and dear one, makes us relive long forgotten
memories, followed by the bittersweet feeling of guilt. Of thinking, “I really
should have spent more time with him/ her while I still could”.
Sometimes,
that revelation or wakeup call need not be prompted by something far so severe
as a death in the family. Mostly, it’s all the little things.
The
vanishing “pukurs” in the by lanes of Old Calcutta for example. Seeing fewer
and fewer of these scum covered bodies of water every time I go there on
holiday just makes the memories of early childhood more and more vivid. I understood
that they needed to be filled in for they only served the purpose of being
breeding grounds for mosquitoes and it was required for expansion of houses. Yet,
the memories associated with these places protest outrageously at such change.
I remember the folklore of snake sightings in
the pukurs when women folk went to wash their clothes or the men went to bathe.
We children would giggle at the uselessness of giving away soiled clothes to
the washerman, who we knew, would simply wash them in the even more soiled
water of the ponds and simply iron them and return them to us, probably dirtier
and more germ infested than before.
Another
example. A few years back, our ancestral home in Kolkata was torn down to build
three new four storeyed building in its place. Saying goodbye to the old place
was nothing but inevitable. But there’s something about a high rise (well,
alright, a four storey building) that just doesn’t match up to a rambling
bungalow, overshadowed with all species of trees imaginable.
Many a
productive afternoon of my childhood was
spent whiling away in the shadows of aforementioned trees, rolling in the
perpetually wet grass and swatting away irrepressible mosquitoes, that were as
much a part of Kolkata as the Bengali language.
When
the source of such poignant memories is ripped away and when goodbye is the
only way, is it no wonder that the memories get buried deep in our
consciousness?
These
memories stay repressed, but then, something always happens that triggers them
and brings back the smallest things that spelt comfort in a child’s mind; a
grandmother’s gentle call, wild slobbery love from dogs, the sharp tang of bay
leaves when my brother and I plucked them out and pretended to cook with them
or make “shanti jal” and spatter the dogs with it.
They
say that growing old is mandatory while growing up is up to us. Whether we like
it or not, we all need a dose of reality that forces us to abandon our make
believe world of childhood where all dreams come true.
When
time came to bid adieu to my beau as he set out on his first sail, it felt like
the entire world around me was tinged in grey. Listlessly, I turned to my
laptop for comfort and found it in digital photographs of times spent with
friends in junior college.
It was
like seeing through a looking glass, into the past; a past where everyone was
blissfully unaware that in less than two years, everybody would take on a
different path. Paths, so varied, that everyone was hard pressed for time to
exchange even simple greetings via messenger.
Photographs
are another way of making the past real. What is it about a ridiculous pictures
of people frolicking during a picnic that can make you aware of the exact way
you felt when the sun stung your eyes? Or the way you could always smell the
chlorine from the three pools, no matter where you went on the venue? Or the
lively games of Uno where all the other players were boys?
Goodbyes.
They’re just that way you know. They make everything come rushing back, and the
memories wash over you like the powerful surf. Sometimes, they sadden you. But
others make you feel hopeful. They remind you to move out of the express lane
of life, pick up the phone and concentrate on making more memories with loved
ones; memories, that will one day, pull us through another sad goodbye.
~ Inquisitive I
so.... its been a year since i have shifted to my new house.... i shifted from one college to another... so... the common thread that held me together was that i was the "new girl!"
so the point is... you shift into this new building or society whatever where people have already settled down.. so when you walk in... everyone tag you as the "New GIRL in the building" obviously 'cz they don't know your name and etc etc.. what does this new girl go through.... il tell you... she walks alone everywhere ... feels awkward 'cz people keep glancing and looking at her... gets super freaky when all the guys come over and introduce themselves :D(not that m complaining) and then she settles down!!
