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A cup of tea -Worth life

“Weather is going to be cloudy and cyclone of wind speed 130 km/hr is supposed to cross the city” forecasted the IMD on Saturday ,but for Shyamal da it was a usual day since ,it was his responsibility to make tea for the aged gang of Sahapur colony of New Alipore (a place in Kolkata ,West Bengal).It was a rainy day ,not the usual rains but a cyclone was forecasted by the officials ,but Shyamal da as usual took his bag off with a can having milk and the key tucked in this dhoti, and a mild off yellow shirt to that place where in morning you will find a group of  around 30 aged people sitting there having tea and endless conversations on topics you can’t believe ,some use to dive in such a way that they forget to have their cup of tea which was “Worth Life “ .But that day it was something different I saw Shyamal da moving into shop , which was a small shop covered with tin and a stove in front  and old fashioned vessel  over it to make tea ,it had few dabas of biscuits mostly taken from local bakery and a few other things .Defending the wind and fully drenched in rain ,he opened his shop ,he kept the milk inside and went off to bring water , You must be wondering how I  got to know about this  ,the shop was just behind my house and I used to sit in my balcony and gaze  at him  the entire morning ,but that day it was something different ,After he came back bringing water ,he took a look around ,the weather was changing ,the drains were overflowing ,there was distinct silence in the roads ,drops of rain had made the entire place   sound like unusual ,but he had a faith that his customers or better his companions I would say, will come definitely for sure ,so  he made places for and put the benches outside and then started preparing tea just the way he use to do . Two hours went by it was 9 am ,nobody turned up the weather had a different mood that day ,it was changing abruptly but Shyamal da was undoubtful he kept putting the vessel timely  on to the stove to keep the tea hot and kept starring at the small road from where people used to come .But ,it turned up like it was not his day ,and finally I came down to have tea for the first time ,going down I asked him “aren’t you aware of the weather today ,why are you here ,its raining profusely, where is your radio ?” and  to this he laughed and asked “cha khabe ?“(Do you want to have tea?” and I nodded and sat down ,though I was getting wet a little since benches  were below a cover attached to his tin covered shop .I had lot of questions in my mind , didn’t know from where to start ,and I just started like talking about the weather ,and he interrupted me saying “If I don’t come a single day ,these buras (aged people in Bengali  are called “”Bura”) won’t get to cheer up ,and live one day more than in their life ”.I was little unsatisfied with his answer and I wanted to know what it was all about “I have been making tea in this shop for the last 32 years ,and every single day these people come here to cheer up  their lives ”.”How old are you ? why all these ,why don’t you take rest and cheer up your life as the rest all do ”.He took a deep breathe and asked me my age. I found it little funny and said I can be of  your grandson’s age and gave a foolish smile ,to his ,he said he hasn’t seen his grandson ,in fact he hasn’t  seen his son ,his son’s family for the last 15 years ,I interrupted him and asked where are they “They are somewhere in this world ,Shibu is a neighbour of us ,he keeps updating me about his whereabouts by that small thing in the mobile phone where people put photos “, I asked “Facebook?”, to that he nodded his head and said yes that green signal means he is alive and every evening Shibu comes to my shop for a tea and shows me that green signal ,I was confused a little and it clicked to me the online indication in messenger app ,where his son used to be online .The tea cup in my hand was just like that ,his eyes were like he wanted someone to share everything so I kept listening him and he continued ,he used to work as a mechanic in his earlier days ,he worked hard to earn bread for his son and wife ,his son after graduation got a scholarship in United states and never came back “He was wearing a blue shirt and a black pant when we saw him  for the last time  sitting in a rickshaw heading for the airport ,your didima (he meant his wife) still waits at the window on the chilekota(a space just before the terrace of the house ) of our house  every evening ,he told us  that he will be coming back in the evening time ,since there was only one flight from New York to Kolkata at that time .But ,he never came back ,and with the age  ,I left the  mechanic job and started selling tea and from that time I have been waiting ,that one day he will come and not me the group of people you see here every day, almost everyone has a same story “. I was shocked to listen everything ,I wanted to know about everyone ,but he didn’t wanted to say .I knew the answer of this question but I asked him, “why all these, everyday dragging yourself  here ,taking pain of fetching water ,opening closing the shop ”.To this ,he took a deep breath   and said “ I am 84 ,I don’t know  whether he will come  back or not, but every morning I try to help these people live a day more than they think of with this cup of tea  ,seeing them happy makes me feel I have someone around me  and this is how it goes on “.”and what about didima(his wife)” I asked as he finished and to that he said “She doesn’t needs anyone ,I am with her till the day I will serve tea ”. And the everyday gang all with black umbrellas came running to his shop “Shyamal da ,ajke late hoe gelo(Shyamal da ,we are late today)” and Shyamal da rejoiced and welcomed everyone and put the glasses for tea around him ,and started serving tea ,slowly I gave him the money walked out and I saw Shyamal da got busy asking people why they were late. I was surprised ,shocked and it took for me digest everything ,While people lost hopes of living their lives at early ages ,there are some souls in this earth ,who have been waiting their owns for the last 15 years ,who gets happy just by seeing the green online indication of their son in someone’s phone ,who make others happy by serving tea so that they live a little more .As I headed for my day I wanted to thank him for being a human not just having hope that his son would come one day but ,keeping others live more happily with a cup of tea ,which is worth life.

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The Lost Village.

Indranil Banerjee

“Where is your native place,” place asked my colleague when he got to know I am heading home for Durga Puja “It’s far away from cities towns and all around “I answered. Unsatisfied with the answer, he wanted to know more. “Leave it’s not, where I live or have lived, we have come out from that place a long ago”.   I don’t know, why his face was like he had a lot of questions, he was quite interested, for I don’t know why, so I thought of putting my pen up for the same.

As far as I remember it was 2013, the last time I had been to my native. Since then I have never been to that place.

Far away from cities, towns and people is a small road connecting Burdwan -Gushkara state highway of West Bengal. This road leads to my native named “Deasa” and yes for your kind information, it is searchable in Google, it falls on taluk of Aushgram, Gushkara, a small town of West Bengal also known as Rice town of Bengal for producing and processing highest quantities of rice in a year in West Bengal.

It was a ritual for us to visit our “Gram” (Village) for those two days in Puja, for these days were very important us to be there.

We didn’t have a much big house or some great villa back in Deasa, but instead, a mud-built house supported with shaggy woods and covered with harvested dry husk. Although It was small, we had made the best memories of our childhood back in that place. The house usually remains locked for the entire year and no one has any idea of what happens to it during that tenure, the house is being like that for years after my grandfather passed away. I still remember that day, when they had put a big lock in that house after the  Kriya got over, my father stood still, he wanted to say a lot of things but couldn’t since he had his projects settled outside West Bengal. First time in my life, I had seen him shedding tears, not because he missed someone, but the root of the tree to whom he was attached to the most, was not anymore. He never told this thing to anyone but his silence percolated everything. I was very young at that time but was matured enough to understand all those things.

Since then, we visit Deasa twice a year or you can say once, and those two  days are precious ones ,it all starts with reaching there early morning through the most beautiful fields, mud roads and people who although may be very poor, but their faces had a charm not because they had something to flaunt  or too proud off, even if you visit  them after years, they  will remember you and ask “Ki, Tahle Asa holo, pujo te ”(So, finally  you have come to puja after a long time ).

Then, sitting together, arranging Thali (plate) for puja, thousands of gossips and a lot of things. We had our farmer, whose name I have forgotten, but he was a decent lanky fellow, he used to fetch water for us from the hand pump and there was a small open covering, which used to be the water tank for the whole day. And, yes the most important thing was bringing “Muri, Chop and Boondiya”(puff rice, potato stuff fry, and sweets) for everyone and me and my cousin were, most enthusiastic in doing that. There was a small shop “Gope ‘s Sweetshop ”where if you go some of our family members could be always seen eating there, even if it was supposed to be a fast for the whole day. Then use to come the main event “Sandhi Puja ”,that time of the year ,where people closing their eyes chanting prayers for life to Maa Durga, goddess of war, victory climbing on her Vahan (lion) and hence  “Mahishasurmardini” saves  the world from evils, bad energy and all those negative aspects of life which people are suffering from . She is “Inevitable” and if you search the meaning of this word  in dictionary, it will tell you something different than what she was, even mahishasur with all of his boons that he got after doing a lot of prayers to Lord Brahma as said (although he didn’t want to give ) couldn’t stand before her

This moment is the most cherishable moment for everyone, ringing bells ,beating of percussions chanting of prayers after the priest and ambience filled with smoke of “Dhunuchi”(Holy smoke created by burning coconut peels and agar) couldn’t  make anyone out of it  and then used to come the  Maha Balidan and followed by offerings of  Arthi and it brings out all the joy among people  coming  from different parts of the world to Deasa for it . Those chants are the words of life bringing down pain, anger, suffering and many other things we deal with everyday life and that is followed by an old ritual of dancing  together it’s called “Digambori” where some brats  will sing and people will sing and dance  along with them making around and everyone will come along with them till the group finishes the entire village and comes back to “Durga Dalan ”(temple courtyard) . Every year I use to see some old faces missing in that group, I never asked about them to people since they also didn’t have any idea of what happened to them. Oh, yes the most important was “Bhog”(Community lunch), not for us but for some people who eagerly use to wait to have two times meal once in a year.

That day in 2013, it was raining very heavily and we couldn’t get a place to sit for food, there were hundreds of people like us, waiting outside with a steel or a broken plate, since they were not supposed to eat in a plate provided by people and thereby so-called upper caste community had made a wall between them and us. But these people never  used to mind, for them Ma Durga will sort out everything, she will shed off everyone’s pain, suffering, and problems  and will bring joy to everyone’s home and the interesting fact was  even being standing on the other side of the gate ,they had no regrets instead they had  smile and believe on Ma Durga. Their belief on Ma Durga is not just offering puja with sweets, fruits, and flowers, it’s something beyond that or you may call it “inner connection ” that helps them fighting all the odds, and so-called poverty !! Actually, that’s not poverty for them, that’s their normal life and they are living for it,  every day, every hour hoping that puja for that year will bring happiness in their life.

Adjacent to our house was a small place, a rectangular portion, where after lunch people used to sit and those long conversations never use to end. These days that place has changed into a shop, not a bigger one but it has a “telephone” in it and that’s why it is quite famous in the village.

The hand pump opposite to the entrance remained the same for years and there is a “Lifebuoy” leaflet attached to the wall adjacent to it. I wonder nobody has taken it out since then.

There is another interesting thing I could see that year, bottles filled with purple solutions hanging outside everyone’s houses. I asked one of the guys for what it was, to my surprise he told it is to keep dogs away from houses. I couldn’t find any scientific meaning behind that, but I  consoled myself on people’s believe over it.

There have been a lot of changes since then, the number of people going there has considerably reduced, people have changed their lifestyle over years and moreover, this materialistic life has changed people from sitting and talking together to taking selfies, putting up stories on Instagram and a lot of other things. However changed it is, the place remained the same, the “Dhakis” (people who play percussions in puja) were the same and the food menu, and there have been no changes in it as well.

It’s been four years I didn’t had a glance of Ma, so this year I have decided to go back and see my place. I have no Idea, how it would be? Would people recognize me, will everything be the same ,and a bunch of questions surrounded me that entire night and the next morning started with “Bajlo Tomar Alor Benu” ( Ritual song which illustrates the nine-day war between Ma Durga and Mahishasur and its consequences to earth and heaven) and yes ,this day marks the beginning of Durga Puja and people who have lost their parents pay a tribute to them by going to river and backwaters.

This festival is just not a festival; it’s the inner feeling that comes out from every Bengali during this time of the year, words cannot express it neither expression can. It is something very emotional to which our sentiments are attached and the countdown, yes, it is finally over today.

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The Long Drive

Indranil Banerjee 

Today, I am going to tell you about a guy, whom I met a few days back in the empty roads of Bangalore. It was a usual Saturday, 1.30 am at night and we were coming back home ,when my mobile popped “Raju has arrived your destination” is and yes it was  a UBER cab  had waiting for us, while all my friends were busy talking about the party ,I got a sneak  and started talking to Raju Bhaiya ,since it was an hour Journey  to home . Usually, conversations here in Bangalore starts with, whether had dinner or not or how are you?

But that day it was something different ,I asked him about why didn’t he cancelled the ride ,since he had to wait there for half an hour more, because of our stupid photo sessions outside the hotel, to this he smiled and gave an astonishing answer, he told “Sir, it’s too late and you wouldn’t have got another one, if I had cancelled the ride, rather he slept there for that many minutes and got himself up for next morning . After talking for some time, I got to know he was from Uttar Pradesh, He was an attendee in Apolo hospitals by profession. he was driving a cab even after having a job, which takes half of his day. I got more curious about this and jumped into his story since I saw 32 minutes to reach home, I had only one question in mind, Why all these?

“Sir, I am 48 years old ,I have two kids and a wife to see ,my profession doesn’t help me fulfilling my kids dream of having “Bucket Chicken and Alu fries”, every weekend and my wife ‘s weekend shopping ,I don’t have a background to feed my family and neither my community helps me in any sort for this ,I work 12 hours a day in hospital cleaning rooms, adjusting cushions and putting up garbage in dumpers and by the end of the day, I start taking rides to bring  people back at  home” ,he finished his entire story in  1 minute ,I didn’t knew what to say and foolishly asked him ,when do you sleep ? To this he laughed and replied “I take naps sir, and that helps me getting through the entire day” and when do you meet your family, don’t you spend time with them?”Weekends and mornings sometimes, when I help her getting kids ready for school”.  I had a tree full of questions pounding on him and he kept answering and when the trip was coming to an end, I just asked him, why don’t you  just tell your family about your situation and tell them to control the expenses and all big things they aspire for, not everyone can bear the same. Although it was a personal one, he just looked at me and said “Sir, I was the one who bought them here and now it’s my responsibility to fulfil their wishes and demands. And what about you? I asked. “Me??“ , he asked smiling and closing the trip. Don’t you feel tired of doing all these and starting something new, to him, this question was like changed his facial expression and by this time we had reached home ,he didn’t reply to anything and neither I thought of asking him about that , but, the time I was moving out, a voice came out and said “Sir, not everyone gets the opportunity to wear ID cards and go to offices and spend their weekends lavishly, and my constants fall in these categories of “Not Everyone”, Goodnight Sir . He was restless, though ready to work, his smile was clearly indicating he wanted to have a nap and wanted to tell a lot more about himself, but we both were running out of time. I was numb, being having no answers, I smiled at him and waved him goodbye since I was not going to see him anymore ever in my life.

Hovering the whole night ,I asked myself ,is that so important being in a place, is it so important for everyone to spend the same kind of life as others are, or the so-called artificial life in bigger cities are taking up people like anything ,that they have to work all around the clock to fulfil their families expectations of spending nice weekends. I was speechless ,first time in my life, I saw something, weird ,I wouldn’t have given a second thought on this, if it was to for some  savings or for building home or buying some plot back in his village ,but working for someone ,for their better weekends and lavish spending  made me think all over the night.

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The girl with a pen

Indranil Banerjee

It was a shiny morning, I  was heading for work  like an usual day ,but something caught me in between that day ,  a part of the world which is never seen or seen but ignored and that day one of came to me tried.She was roughly 4 years old, torn dress,  shaggy hairs and her eyes wanting a lot of things she got in these four years. She came to me and asked ” Anna please take one,  its just 5 rupees,  god will bless you if you buy this  ” I was astonished I had no words, but took two pens from that kid,  who never knew what a blessing was.She had a shattered dress, empty stomach, hoping for some food and for a better life, she gave the pens and smiled, I told her to keep the change ” thanks anna ” .and she went away in search of something she could never get at that age.I have been traveling through that hope farm signal for the last 5 years, but I haven’t come across such a scene.It was heart bothering even after the signal went green, I stood there to see where she is going, having that scene was more disturbing than looking at her.I could see her mother, breastfeeding her small kid, having no idea where she was what was she for, but being a mother she could not help, she had.I crossed the road to enquire, but I could see a strong disapproval in the lady ‘s face . “please don’t talk sir simply, this is our life”.The whole day in office I was thinking about that face.The evening I came back I could see the same girl asking for a pen to everyone.I went to her as a stranger and she asked me and suddenly she understood that I was her morning customer and she denied.I asked to give her 5 pens and later enquired whether she is willing to give me all the pens. To her answer, she denied saying she won’t sell all the pens today since they have to earn money tomorrow as well and if today she sells everything her Appa will take everything and will drink.” I don’t want any problems, please take tomorrow Anna”.I wanted to know the entire story and had a lot of doubts.I asked her, whether any third person is telling her to do .she smiled and said “No anna”.I couldn’t ask much about her life, as she was much young for all this.I came home having no idea, what to do with those really long pens. Wanting to know a lot of things I went to that same place the very next day, but I couldn’t find her I  waited for her half n hour she wasn’t there.I did the same thing for an entire week but she couldn’t be found out again in that signal .later I got to know they had been removed from that place by police.I couldn’t digest that and I hoped that she might be somewhere nearby, so one day I went in search of that pen girl and suddenly it happened to me that I saw a face, same torn dress holding pens in hand asking for it everywhere.  Yes, it was she I went down and went for her “How are you” she could recognize me I asked her, “why did you go? my friends wanted your pen, so I am here to buy you’re all the pens, would you give me? “Nodding head indicated she didn’t want to and said, ” I don’t know”.I asked her ” are you hungry ” without saying anything I took her to a nearby shop   and bought Idli  for her entire family and in this way I could, get a chance to talk to her mother and  I started asking what was  the  entire story, before that she asked whether I was married , I said no , and to that she said ” never do that by  mistake ” .after talking to her for an hour I got to know she was from Chapra District Bihar,, she was married to her husband forcefully and to fulfill his sexual desires further he has aborted her more than 5 times , last 3 months back she underwent an abortion .she had the only daughter who was involved in that pen business .she earns 100 Rs a day and for that she gets 20 Rs and rest all is taken by his ” Mard” .I asked why don’t you run away, what makes you being here, run with your girl and get a life,” I don’t want my daughter to get sold ” I had no words but to come out.I  never knew I was living in 21 at century and such a marginalized society still existed in silicon city of India.Days passed and I forgot her, I forgot the entire story,  but it was one day when I saw her again with same pens. This time I was irritated, not with she was selling pens but, she was getting scolded by a lanky fellow, scolding her for not selling properly.I objected and straight went  in rescue of her, I asked her father ” You don’t seem to be decent isn’t it, you are putting your daughter first in this and again you are scolding to this he gave a very lame answer ” she is born for this ,ask her mother right there , I told her to throw this also , she didn’t listen ” .being  not able to take all this ,I told him to stop warmed him that I will complain to women’s commission and police and for that he will have to face consequences .He laughed and said “Sir no one recognizes us as a human being in this city and you are talking about some commission. One time food and something to cover ourselves makes us happy, and you are talking about big things, sir, there are thousands of Vagabonds like me in these cities who have left hopes with their lives and are surviving like this.Go, sir, live your life.We are just like trash in this society,  one day  we will also  be curbed off along with this trash lying there.”, an utter silence indicated he didn’t want to talk anymore and I could see tears in his eyes, being not able to take all this, I moved out. Later when I came home a lot of questions surrounded me  and yes, they were horrible” Are we, living in an era where people are treated like this ,the society marginalizes them so much that they put their young ones to a death game business every day, we are  so busy that we  cannot lend a hand to this so-called marginalized society to come up, ,but still we ignore them and I too did  that day after that , but the very next day I saw the same girl standing near the signal but this time she had  a smile on her face not because she had  got a home to live or a new dress to wear, but today, it was her father selling the pens .And the signal turned green,  it made my day. I understood, that day the value of a pen, a pen that can make our life and the same can ruin it.Its been four months, every day whenever I pass hope farm  signal, I look for that family, they might have been taken off or I don’t know what happened to them ,they could not be seen anywhere or I should say I never took  an effort to search for them and again they were curbed off from so-called 21 st century era.