Sauntering down the narrow alleys of North Calcutta’s Nagerbazaar, Durga pulled the end of her aanchal over her nose. The stink from the open drain was too much. God knows why the Municipality people did not have the sense to cover these! Her high heels weren’t helping her at all in manoeuvring around the sudden unannounced potholes liberally dotting the already puckered surface of these obnoxious lanes. Muttering to herself, she turned the corner of the club and stopped at her neigbourhood’s local grocery store.
A little tucked away shop at the intersection of two narrow lanes, one can easily walk past and completely miss the store. it was like a shadow in the corner. Yet, Manik’s grocery had everything one needed to run a middle-class Bengali family. From rice, lentils. biscuits, milk to quintessential herbs like mouri (fennel seeds) and the famous Hojmi Guli, to soap, matches, muri, cheere and the occasional Coke Pepsi cans, Manik’s store narrated the story of a common Bengali house; simple yet spicy at times, common, with the occasional flash of class.
Durga’s elder son was still down with his tummy ache and she was left with no choice but to continue the twice-in-a-day dosage of doi cheere. Eesh bechara! What a sad alternative to his regular platter of mishti! That one was simply unstoppable in the matter of sweets. That bulging tummy no longer made Durga laugh. When caught, which was often, he would flash his ever-innocent smile at Ma, winning her heart and melting her pent-up frustration at him to a messy liquid heap of mixed up emotions, mostly love. He won each time, hands down!
Her younger son had all traits of the modern young street-smart generation, in complete contrast to his Dada. Quick to don the latest fashion, this one was the perfect embodiment of charm, good looks and a relentless supply of adrenalin! Always adventurous, this lad stopped at nothing to explore the wide world. He called it fun, she knew it was a synonym of risk! Calcutta was no longer what she used to be. These days, Durga remained too worried for him. Moving around in the dark lanes of North Calcutta late into the night was a foolish risk to take. Durga could never be at peace till the boy got home at night.
That way, even if they bickered a lot, her two daughters had always been a decent pair. One of course spent most of her time, head buried in books or playing some instrument…such a romantic her Sara was! Quiet and a loner, happy in being immersed in her own world. Not so for her other girl though. That one was quite the opposite. Radiant and lovely, she could fill any empty space with the light of happiness.
Having collected a library book Sara had asked for, Durga now headed home. It was getting dark. October end in Calcutta could often turn unpredictable. The sky could get moody, quick to darken or settle into calm. There was a sudden streak of lightning. Durga looked up. Seemed like the heavens had opened up. What a spectacular sight! The lone street lamp flickered and switched off. In all but an instant, the tiny street seemed devoid of life and light. In the absolute darkness, Durga looked up again.
A known feeling tickled her somewhere deep within. Like a nudge to make her look hard for something she knew was up there, hidden behind the clouds and the veil of light. A shiver ran down her spine. A familiar feeling at times beckoned her on nights like this. Much like the appeal of a home, a tug at her heartstrings, whispering to her, “You belong here”. Light years away from this damp dark street of North Calcutta, was there something beyond the clouds she was a part of? Did she and her children once belong there? Was it once her home? God knew.
