Indeed! The air
is flowing outside inheriting in it the dampness as the nature perspires out
the sweat. And I amused at my influenced senses for making the music out of it,
carving out a lovely portrait on my psychic canvas, igniting the writer in me
and reasoning the events around me. Yes! The air has all of them- Music, Art,
Literature, and ... The Science!
No, I don’t belong to here. But I destined to
be here for the time is enough for me to grasp the essence, to observe what I
always wanted to, in this city of joy! As I walk down the alleys, I see the elevated
abodes standing proudly, manifesting the enthralling creativity. I see people,
mostly short heighted and dark skinned, smiling , singing ,tattling, working , smoking and walking to their terminus. From Somewhere distant, beyond the sight, as
I recollect the scenes around me, a voice came...
“ Jodi tor dak shune keu na ashe tobe ekla
cholo re,
Tobe ekla cholo, ekla cholo , ekla cholo, ekla cholo re....”
If they answer not to thy call walk alone , walk alone!
Scene 1 University of Calcutta, Ballygunge science college...
This place
where I was going to expend most of my two months, was one of the prangans
(Campuses) of Calcutta university, called Taraknath Siksha Prangan. They say
it’s the university established in 1857, the first institution in south Asia as
a multidisciplinary and secular western style university. “Time is powerful”, I
thought as the sight of that 8 floor building cramped my neck. As I entered,
all I could see and hear was ‘ bengali’.
Posters, neatly drawn sketches of some renowned individuals, quotes,
advertisements,were all poured with Bengali. People were all forcing their
throat out to many long Bengali sentences in a breath. Sometimes,I
fear the strangeness, sometimes it annoys me and then there are times when I
love it, I was different here.
After I met the
professor and had the gratification with work, my first day enthusiastic mind
quickly got focused to the work, until the inquisitive part of it couldn’t
resist for long and I had to bow to it. I headed to the uppermost floor and here
was a canteen. For me, Canteen ,which is actually a hall with a cornered tiny stall
and benches all around, is the best part of this old withered building.
I could see almost one fourth part of the city through those big open windows. It drives me to realise the miserable part
we as a human contribute to this world. Nonetheless, my eyes can never deny the
beauty of the scene outside.
I could feel
the trembling floor underneath due to the loud piercing voices of students,
arguing (or may be discussing ) with
each other. It seemed a parliament house to me where no one wanted to refrain
oneself from speaking and was trying their highest pitch of voice ever in
support of their arguments. Supporting this imagination were the numerous
posters, with political slogans and citations, hiding all the walls. Of course!
They were all in Bengali, Hindi was an alienated language here. Something I was
able to read was SFI or TMC. Politics!
They have it in their blood. It had its
roots here and produced their buds and branches here. The present one is only an
old dried out, unproductive tree all over the country and no one bothers to water it. Anyways! I loved the part that some
very close friends can be seen here of different parties. At least in the college, this beautiful relationship is being protected
from politics, I thought.
Now let’s have some food talk!
Even though I
had always known that they eat rice, bhat and fish in lunch and dinner both, I
couldn’t stop myself amazing at their digestion system. It’s impossible at least
to me eating 1 kg of rice with eggs at a time. A tough time was waiting for
me! With all the strange names like
luuchi , veg chow , ...falling onto my ears, I picked one of them I liked and said
confidently, “ I want Lucchi and also chai!.
He, with an obscured face, asked,” Chaaa?
“ ohh! Only
four rupees! Okay!’ Kolkata is really the cheapest place in India, I amazed.
He asked again
irritatingly , “ chaa??” and blabbered something in Bengali. After a few
seconds of exchanging blank expressions with him , I realised that they call
‘chaa’ to ‘chaai’. I was the newborn baby
in this world who is not even familiar with the accent of those strangers. I
strained my eyes to see the people around letting the smoke out of their lungs,
even the girls proudly boasting the action. “This state is probably the largest consumer of tea and cigarette” I
concluded.
Rushing back to
work, I had the fortune to have an eye contact with those comforting determined
eyes in a portrait and I smiled and chuckled and hummed,
“Jodi alo na dhore ,ore ore o..ovaga, alo na dhore..
Jodi jhor badole adhar rate, duar dey ghore..
Tobe bojranole...Apon buker pajor jaliye niye,
Ekla jolo re,....”
“ if they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with
storm,
O thou unlucky one,
With the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart,
And let it burn alone!”
