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Showing posts from June, 2017

yajJa

“Your name?” “Rohit S Chatterjee.”
"What does 'S' stand for?
"Samar." “What's your father’s name?” “Samar Chatterjee.” “Where do you live, Mr. Chatterjee?” “Park Street.”  “When did you get married to Anusua Chatterjee?” “Three years back.”  “Do you have kids?” “We have a daughter, Hiya.”  “How do you know Aparesh Datta?” “I met him in a pub, in the Park Street, long back." “Are you sure, you only knew him through your association in the pub?” “Yes and also he was my father’s friend’s son. This, I came to know later.” “So, you go to the pub every day?” “No, just on the Fridays and some of the Saturdays” “You are quite rich Mr. Chatterjee. You live in a posh locality of Park Street, go to the pub every week, you spend money on your friends, you own a Mercedes. Well, I can’t think about all these. What do you do for your living Mr. Chatterjee?” “You know everything about me, I am sure. And still, you are harassing me. I have not done anything. I need to go to the hospital t…

Love

I saw “Rajat-da” first time in a small tea stall owned by “Bhola-da”. Rajat is a teacher of a small school of an unknown town. Everyday Rajat used to come to have a cup of tea in that tea stall. Bit tall, thin, with specs and bright eyes, Rajat had an intellect look; and I got attracted instantly. Normally he used to have tea, with a sandwich or a piece of cake. Whenever I used to meet him he used to smile and used to offer me too and sometimes with a pat in my head. An affectionate one. I am also a girl from a small town and always traveling thru the city;  I know men, their “eyes” and their attitude...and got used to those. But Rajat was different, his look was different. He used to get a book out from his old side bag, and then a refreshing sip of tea from the white cup. I used to watch him sometimes from far, from near, his salt and pepper hair, the spectacles, sometimes his fingers tapping the table, sometimes he is singing very softly, "Coffee Houser sei adda-ta", the …

Matsarya

“I am extremely hungry Mamma;  it was a long day in office”,  Anita, threw her bag on the corner sofa and jumped to bed taking the MacBook from her study table.  “Please no laptop now Ani, have your dinner and take some rest. It's 9:35 PM already”, Sheetal in her mid-50s, softly scold her Ani; and looking at her she dotingly asked,  “Ani, did you meet your Di? She is still waiting for you to do dinner together”.  “Sorry, Mamma. Extremely sorry” Anita walked quickly to the bathroom to get changed. “What you do so long at the office? Didn’t Papa tell you to start going to his firm for last so many months? He is getting old. And at least you can come back home, early”, Sheetal continues the quotidian conversation. And Anita replied, as usual,  “No Mamma. Tell Papa to wait for some more time. Let me master little more of corporate law. This firm is the best for that. And working under Parag Sir is such a privilege to learn so much”.
The 19th century Black Forest cuckoo clock loudly sai…

Pride

Rupsa is all set and ready to go to the airport. Her father, Dhiman Banerjee, tensed yet excited and still thoughtful, walking thru the rooms, bit fast, bit slow and somewhat hesitant if his decision after 3 months of thinking is right or wrong. Her mother Mitali, with tearful eyes,  all set to bid goodbye and good luck to her dearest. The 77 years old, 2 storied house at one corner of the crowded Kalipado Dutta Lane next to Amherst Street, Kolkata is suddenly, momentarily vibrant on a Sunday afternoon;  but they were missing their son Souvik, who promised to come back from his small electronics repairing shop  where he had to go suddenly to pick up some papers for the new shop he will be renting, next day morning. They were also missing Dhiman’s mother and elder brother who live on the ground floor, since they had to ‘suddenly’ go to Dakhisnwhwar Kali temple for a long pending ‘puja’. “Baba , I am getting late…Will dada come back? Do you want to call him up once more? Else should I …