In the midst of the misty humid climate of Kolkata, one very busy yet unlike the obvious hustle bustle and not so unpleasant haphazard evening with a quick memory recap of my visits to my home,
My gaze through the streets running wilder and faster,
making its way to find the "Aashirbad Badi," My pulse takes some rest when I breathe-in peace.
I see me running through the narrow street guarded by apartments and buildings taller than your sight can reach.
I can see the grilled balcony and the wide window panes from the start of the narrow lane
where it smells of mouth watering "phuchka's", hear the loud pomp-horns of rickshaws, howling vegetable vendors sitting by the road offering you the fresh possible items they have for sale and women in their 40's and 50's bargaining on the price while bringing their sons and daughters back from their coaching institutes.
I look around to see a busy market, a normal sight in every city but it feels special and close to heart.
Now in my head, I walk slowly towards my home. I already have planned in my mind to surprise my Daadu and Aamma, as I call my old folks, but somewhere in my heart I want Aamma to come to balcony by a chance and see me coming. No surprises just a visit, plain and simple. And as soon as i reach the doorstep after climbing up the staircase which starts as a narrow pathway after the collapsible iron gate and another one in the middle of the staircase, a giant grill structure custom built to help prevent burglars from breaking in, I step on the first land. Stepping out of my shoes, I slip in the pair of flip flops to be used at home I climb another flight of stairs. Out of dark, I step into the light to see my Daadu on his stool sitting straight upright even in his late 70's, stronger than I neither was and nor am. Calls out Aamma and my aunty, "Eyi daekho ke esheche! Jeeko."
Its up to this part I dream of every now and then, I don't browse my memories further, which would have shown to me my dear Uncle (Bodo Kaka, as I call him.) I see his little son my brother standing at the doorstep of the living room shyly looking at me. Aamma walking as fast as she can to see me properly. My aunt to step out of her kitchen and greeting me welcome asking me to sit while she gets me something to quench my thirst.
Then I dissolve these pictures within my memories and wipe the tear drop that calls out my best of intentions to go home.
I miss my home BD-4 is more than just an address to me.
My gaze through the streets running wilder and faster,
making its way to find the "Aashirbad Badi," My pulse takes some rest when I breathe-in peace.
I see me running through the narrow street guarded by apartments and buildings taller than your sight can reach.
I can see the grilled balcony and the wide window panes from the start of the narrow lane
where it smells of mouth watering "phuchka's", hear the loud pomp-horns of rickshaws, howling vegetable vendors sitting by the road offering you the fresh possible items they have for sale and women in their 40's and 50's bargaining on the price while bringing their sons and daughters back from their coaching institutes.
I look around to see a busy market, a normal sight in every city but it feels special and close to heart.
Now in my head, I walk slowly towards my home. I already have planned in my mind to surprise my Daadu and Aamma, as I call my old folks, but somewhere in my heart I want Aamma to come to balcony by a chance and see me coming. No surprises just a visit, plain and simple. And as soon as i reach the doorstep after climbing up the staircase which starts as a narrow pathway after the collapsible iron gate and another one in the middle of the staircase, a giant grill structure custom built to help prevent burglars from breaking in, I step on the first land. Stepping out of my shoes, I slip in the pair of flip flops to be used at home I climb another flight of stairs. Out of dark, I step into the light to see my Daadu on his stool sitting straight upright even in his late 70's, stronger than I neither was and nor am. Calls out Aamma and my aunty, "Eyi daekho ke esheche! Jeeko."
Its up to this part I dream of every now and then, I don't browse my memories further, which would have shown to me my dear Uncle (Bodo Kaka, as I call him.) I see his little son my brother standing at the doorstep of the living room shyly looking at me. Aamma walking as fast as she can to see me properly. My aunt to step out of her kitchen and greeting me welcome asking me to sit while she gets me something to quench my thirst.
Then I dissolve these pictures within my memories and wipe the tear drop that calls out my best of intentions to go home.
I miss my home BD-4 is more than just an address to me.
