Miss you

I still remember the address by heart. 174 A Bankim Chandra Avenue, B-Zone, Durgapur 713205. Being born there my earliest childhood memories start from that small apartment in the 2nd floor of the very first building overlooking the then ever-so-busy Tansen More of B-Zone in Durgapur. For when I was born the Steel city was infact bursting in its prime. And that house perhaps defined a lot of the things which have been associated with me today. The verandah at the front which perhaps was our only link to the vast world outside. The only problem in the panoramic view was a giant blackberry tree which was strategically placed right in my line of sight and blocked everything that a kid of 5 yrs would like to see. Maybe thats the reason why i first went over to Jaba jethuma's place, her verandah had the perfect view. But thats just an assumption this "logical" brain of mine places on the counter. Reality : the only thing i remember is that whenever the front door would be open , that woulod be my cue , a dashing sprint and off i would be in Jaba jethuma's house, where i would be safe from those ensuing beatings which were so-deserved after all the mischief i had done. My ma would be standing out near the door waiting for me to come out but Jaba jethuma's place was one where i had plenty of things to do; wait peevishly near the thakur ghor until jethu finished his daily pujo and handed me over my share of 2 Nokuldana's; talk endlessly with bablidi , who till date has found my conversations ever so amusing; hammering away on the drumset Deb-da had kept in the corner; or even trying to find out where Kaju da had kept my quota of chewing gum for the day, those little white NP gums which used to come in a pack for four, and everyday i would be ever so content in chewing. But the best time i passed was with jethuma , we used to sing, dance , have lots and lots of things to speak about, my school , my friends and my teachers. Ma says whenever i used to cry Jaba jethuma would hear it swop me over and take me to her place and it would be atleast 2 to 3 hours before ma got to see me again. She told Ma i was like her son, and she would have me sit no place else other than her lap. It was on her lap where i watched "Maine Pyar Kiya" for the first time (needless to say i understood nothing, i was 7 at that time), hid my face under her anchol when Rambo would be beaten up by some other goons, and chatter away endlessly while Street hawk would speed away at 365 miles/hr. Those endless hours she spent with me while i lay semi-conscious ridden with typhoid in durgapur hospital , is perhaps my most cherished memory.
We shifted when i was 9 years old, moved some 1 km away from Tansen more. There I grew up in a different enviornment, new people without Jaba jethuma. I guess the separation hit me hard, it took me quite some time to get adjusted. But Class 3 in St.Xavier's gave me very little time to think of all this. I grew up and the visits to Jaba jethuma's house dried up, going ther every one month or so only for a span of 2 hours in the evening. Then come Class 6 and i learnt to ride a cycle. It took my dad some coaxing to let me out on the main road but when i first got the chance i flew away to her house, excited to finally go over there on my own .Then friends , football and cricket caught my fancy during the evening and these visits also dried up. She started telling me over the phone " Buro doesn't remember me anymore" .
Class 9 and we shifted once more and this time it was a distance of 12 kms that separated us. With my busy academic schedule and all those tuitions my social life came to an absolute standstill. She kept telling Ma to send me over , but even though my heart wanted to i could not go . Post boards came my college life where holidays dried up faster leaving me just one major break in the summer. And that was the last time i visited her. Two years back when i paid a surprise visit , her face glowered with anger and happiness. She complained at how i never visited her anymore saying " Buro tui to aamai bhulei gechis" , yet she was so happy that i had come over to her. And in front of her 3 grandchildren she made me sit on her lap the entire time , while those kids got so amazed that a big fellow would get more preference over the lap that was so rightfully theirs. Before leaving i made a promise , i would visit her again.
i failed .
yesterday when i went over to Kolkata Ma told me Jaba jethuma died last month due to a massive heart attack.
I miss you, and i can never forget you .



N.B. For Souvik Das and others , i have allowed anonymous comments in my blog