RAABTA

The Bhattacharya family was by nature stubborn. I had heard from Thamma stories of Dadu’s stubbornness with the British Government when they increased Taxes on farmland. He used to go and sit in the Governor’s office every single day, without fail, till he finally agreed to meet the mad old man. Then there was Baba. If he knew he would do something, like take a fateful ride to Shantiniketan alone, nobody could stop him. Among us siblings, Bibha was the most stubborn. Perhaps because she was pampered the most by all of us, even Ananta. I remember being home on a weekday, during college when I heard the cycle bells outside followed by Ananta running in, his shoes squeaking carelessly against the floor until he saw me and stopped alarmed, not expecting me to be home. Bibha walked in after him, looking angry. She had her hair braided on either side and the school uniform, a white saree with a blue border, neatly pleated hung around her. She looked back at Lata, who in the same uniform and

Bibha wasn’t found for a good many months. Neither did she try to contact us. Every day a little hope died in me. But then like a gust of wind, her news came. Lata came running into my room as I was about to lay down for an afternoon nap and whispered almost in a gasp, “Didi.” I sat up, looking first at her face and then at the letter in her hand. She eyed the corridor and walked up to me to hand the letter over. “It arrived this afternoon. I came here as soon as I read it.” She said almost in a murmur. I read the contents briefly. It was once again addressed to her. Bibha had written that they were in a small rented apartment in Shibpur, near the Botanical Gardens, and she had mentioned the address for Bibha to write to her. She said she trusted Lata not to inform anyone about her. She emphasised that although money was tight and  Kalikinkar was looking for a stable job, they taught children and they were happy. She even wanted to join College soon. I looked up at Lata’s face when I f

I remember coming back from school to be greeted by Maa’s smiling face. She would let Kanai take my bag as I undid my shoes and tell me what she cooked for lunch. I hurried up to get fresh and when I would be at the dining hall, she would be sitting there, feeding Bibha and Lata with her own hands, while Lata in turn fed Ananta. I would sit a little further away from them, eating my lunch as Ma often persuaded me to have more. I would often ask Bibha and Lata about their classes and examinations and offer my help. Dada was away in college, and he came over the weekends' to be doted on some more by Maa. Pondering over those moments, I now believe that I was perhaps her most ignored child. Dada was always favoured for being the eldest. He was exactly like Baba from the very beginning. Baba always considered talking to him, especially when it was decisions involving us. Bibha was the only daughter and was extremely pampered by both Thamma and Baba. And Ananta being the youngest always

Nightmares are of two types. Ones that happen in real life, and ones that happen in dreams. The latter, although responsible for many sleepless nights as children, was far better. I remember most of the time, as electricity at Punnya was not as efficient as that in the cities, with only the new neighbourhood houses lit up by the overhead wires, evenings would see long power cuts. Ma would make us sit in a circle in the open courtyard and light a kerosene hurricane lamp in the middle. It was enough to make our faces visible in the flickering light and darkness that surrounded us. Lata would sit close by her, and Ananta on her lap as Dada waved the hand fan over us, while we indulged in ghost stories. Sometimes Bibha would hold on to me as Ma kept Lata and Ananta close to her, and narrated tales from her native village, stories about Bhoot, Petni and Pishach. I remember that after those stories if the lights didn’t come past my bedtime, I was wide awake, scared that sleeping might give m

Lata remembered how Koni Boudi had directly told her that she wasn’t welcome anymore as Kankana was there. Kankana was older than Bibha by a year or so. She would learn what she needed to learn to take care of the house. Lata had suddenly felt abandoned again. Like she was left with nothing. In taking care of Thamma and looking after the house she had found her purpose. People still wanted her, and needed her, unlike her father. Be it Ananta or Deb Da or Didi, she liked catering to their needs as it somehow validated her existence. As small as it might sound to others, to Lata, this was her world. And one fine day, a stranger had come to snatch it from her. It made Lata realise how she had made a world out of temporary things. She was never meant to be in it forever. She overheard Kakima speak to Kaku about the much-talked-about wedding of Kankana and Deb Da. If it went through it meant that Deb Da could perhaps move away to Calcutta too, like Koni Boudi persuaded Dada once.  She hadn’

The winter after Boudi had persuaded Thamma to consider her sister for me, she came back with Khoka for his vacation. And to add to the disasters, she brought Kankana along with her. At first, I avoided them, but I saw Bibha and Lata slowly befriend her. Boudi had organised a get-together one evening, with Dada’s friends and their families. Out of courtesy, I put on the blue Panjabi Lata had laid out on my bed, and went to socialise. Many of Dada’s friends here were not from Punnya nor from our childhood. They were eminent people from different fields Dada happened to befriend through business and pleasure, the various elite clubs he was a member of in Calcutta and so on. More than non-judgemental friendships that we knew of back home in Punnya theirs was about showing off, mostly Boudi’s will to show the ladies of her Kitty parties the mansion she often talked of which they ‘owned’. I understood that seeing the kind of preparations that were being made for the evening, dishes that Bou

My siblings expected a gift from me every time I went out of town for work. Usually, it started with something like sweets, candies or a famous souvenir from where I went, but when it came to going to Calcutta for a week or so, they would hand me a list. Especially Bibha. I had to spend an extra day running about the busy, noisy streets of Calcutta getting her things. After I decided not to stay in Calcutta, I was afraid to go back and face Dada. But Thamma had other plans. To teach me the ways around our work, she insisted I must visit Calcutta over the weekend, and meet her lawyers. I should know their office, and they should become familiar with my face. That meant Thamma called up Koni Boudi informing her that I was going to stay. Not even six months had passed by since I left Calcutta and I was back in the crowded city streets, with a piece of small luggage, pushing my way through the crowd at Howrah Bridge to find a transport that would take me to Dada’s North Calcutta house.  I

There is a very widely used Bengali phrase “ Nijer pae kurul mara. ” It means using the axe to hurt one’s own foot instead of the log. I had used the term more times than I could remember. But the time I actually felt it was in my twenty-sixth year. Never before had a year been so emotionally turbulent as that one, except when we lost both parents. Narayan Deb was my friend since my very initial days in Kharagpur. First, he seemed like a rowdy kind of man, always befriending the seniors to keep us out of trouble, then he became a brother in arms. My life through the weeks there, away from home, wouldn’t have been the same without him. I actually saw him change into a very responsible youth from the careless lad he came to IIT as. He was well educated, hailed from a reputed family in Calcutta and was the youngest among his five siblings. He had recently joined the Government Railway services and was posted at Asansol. He had telephoned to inform me that his parents were looking for a su