She was dressed in a simple sky-blue saree with mauve border, with her hair tied in a perfect top bun. She drew her eyes with caution and made sure to wear the matching coral lipstick. Although an extra effort was taken to cover up every wrinkle on her face, yet she was meticulous enough not to overdo. The miniature diamond jewellery glittered as she thought to herself, “My introvert nature has been a hindrance in my life, but not today – finally after two decades.”

Looking at herself in the mirror for the last time before leaving, the lady of our story Ankita heaved a sigh, got up, and made the call to Tisha. 

****************

At the other end of the city, Aniket was preparing himself for the big event that he was organizing with his fellow bloggers. He was one of the founders of the group, ‘Blogcentrics’ and today it has grown to be one of the most renowned Bengali bloggers’ association in Bangalore.

He had no time to take his breakfast or sip a cup of coffee – he had a lot to do before the guests started arriving. They had also set up a podium to introduce new bloggers, discuss the various facets of blogging and pay tribute to the veterans for their indomitable support.

“So much to do in such a little time. These office fellows in Bangalore do not understand the value of a writer, these coders!” he kept murmuring while rechecking the nitty-gritties of the forthcoming event.

Those who knew him were used to the nature of this 50+ old man whose entire life revolved around the association, its bloggers, and its posts. And though each was ready to go out of the way to make things easier for him, none could approach him. His meticulous nature was a terror for all, except the smart looking, chiseled face, and shoulder-length haired, Hemanta.

He has been seeing him in this dishevelled condition since last night and it had started taking a toll on his mood. So, he walked up to his mentor and demanded, “Have you looked at yourself? You look like an old man….”

“Hemanta, don’t disturb me!” he scoffed.

But he knew this young chap’s determination, so smiling to himself, he turned his back towards him.

“Who’s coming today? Have you invited someone special? Since the time I have joined your ‘team,’ I have seen you organizing more than two events a week, you never fret out so much,” continued the adamant kid. With each word he spoke, his brown eyes glittered with mischief.

Like a one had struck by lightning, Aniket stopped, and looked at his watch and then at his attire.

“Anish,” he called for the housekeeping guy, “get me a cup of Expresso and the kurta from my bag.”

“Come chap, let’s enjoy the weather,” smiling towards his companion he continued, “after all, that’s the best part of Bangalore!”

****************

Bangalore traffic sucks. Travelling from Yellahanka New Town to Babusaplya seems like a lifetime journey. If Tisha hadn’t been with her, Ankita would have unquestionably jumped off her car at the first signal itself.

“What’s wrong with you?” scolded Tisha after waiting for her friend to break the silence. They have been friends since childhood, and she was well acquainted with her timid friend’s nature. Today she looked perfect for the occasion and then why couldn’t she settle down her nerves.

“Why do you freak out every time you go to meet that old haggard?” she asked.

Ankita looked at her with pained eyes, “don’t speak about him like that. By the way, why did you come in these stiff formals today? Is it some official presentation of yours?”

Tisha was five years younger than Ankita, but when it came to life’s decisions, they always had a reverse role to play. She knew how badly her friend was in love with Aniket, and it was because of him that in spite of being, 45 she was still unmarried and (supposedly) happily single.

“No. I wanted you to be the show stopper!” she smiled back.

The rest of the way, none of the friends, uttered a word. Tisha was busy practicing her speech, which she was supposed to give at Blogcentric’s meet while Ankita was lost in her dreams.

****************

How vividly she remembers their first chat on Orkut. It just seems like yesterday, when suddenly she had got an STD call on their landline. Aniket was bubbling with excitement, he was calling her after a year to inform that there was a new mode of communication, and they could chat for hours through Orkut.

A friendship which could not take shape when they were in the same town, started flying with new wings of Orkut. They have seen so many dawns together; there have been so many nights when they have looked up at the same stars from distance cities.

“Let’s go, dear, we have reached,” Tisha interrupted her thoughts.

Before climbing up the stairs, her friend looked at her and asked, “Why did you not go to meet Aniket when he was in Kolkata in 2009?”

This was the hundredth time Tisha was asking this question to her, so finally, Ankita surrendered, and replied sheepishly, “Because I feared that on finding how different I looked and sounded, he would have stopped chatting with me.”

 “Now shall we go? Or, do you have any further concerns to be answered?” she muttered under one breath and started climbing up the stairs, without awaiting the response.

On reaching the rooftop, both the friends were impressed with the entire arrangement. Each item had the touch of a professional, passionate artist. A few stalls were lined up near the entrance, with neatly arranged chairs and tables. The discussions had already started, and they could see the podium at the other end of the rooftop.

A young lady with a beaming smile, welcomed them, “Your names please, Ma’ams?”

As they confirmed their details, she escorted them to the front row. Aniket was nowhere – both the pair of eyes searched him for different reasons.

It was hardly 15 minutes when they heard their names being called for their speech on ‘blogging and how it has been playing a crucial role in today’s life.’

As decided, Tisha finished giving her speech amid applauses, and Ankita stood beside her with her bright smile and searching eyes.

Just as when they were about to climb down, a veteran blogger intruded, “Ankita, won’t you say something?”

Ankita stopped or slightly tripped mid-way, but within seconds, she collected herself and walked up towards the microphone.

There was triumph in Tisha’s eye – she knew what an impressive speaker her friend was. What her umpteen coaxing and blackmailing couldn’t do was done by a stranger!

Ankita’s confident stride, enchanting presence, and articulated voice mesmerized the audience from the moment she started speaking.

“Blogging…Back in 2007, when blogging was a completely new concept to me, a friend had said, “When we’ll get engrossed in the race of life, we will have families to look after and have no time for each other, our blogs will speak. Start blogging.”

She continued with a pause, “And thus, I started, but I constantly searched for inspiration in external factor…failure was inevitable!”

She searched through the audience for someone, and resumed with the same vigour, “My blog was famous among friends, but their expectations stooped me down, so just when I was about to re-shut myself up in the pages of my diary, my friend reminded me that I should never hide myself from the world. I should write whatever my heart says, and the friend explained a lot of benefits… and all of which my dear friend Tisha had already discussed today!”

Everyone laughed. And once they settled down, she concluded with her flamboyant flair, “So my dear audience, blogging has a lot of benefits. It’s up to you to find out the reason for it. Once you know the true inspiration, you are sure to touch the sky and fulfill every dream associated with it.”

She bowed and the two friends left the stage. The moment they reached their designated seat, Ankita clenched Tisha’s hand and whispered, “I want to leave.”

“Don’t be crazy! And stop shaking, you know you were fantabulous.” She scolded, “You can’t leave before meeting him. Where the hell is he? Call him now!”

Ankita scanned the area for the last time and as she got up to leave, she smiled at her friend, “Sorry! ..have to go. Please stay till the end, meet him, and once all done, call me. Bye.”

She would have rushed down the stairs, if the fresh aroma of Darjeeling tea near the stairs, wouldn’t have wafted in the air. “How could I miss it when I came.” She mused, “I have missed it so badly in the last five days.”

Once again, she looked around as if to confirm no eyes were following her, and walked up to the stall, “Do you have Darjeeling tea, preferably 2nd flush.”

The stall-keeper smiled in acknowledgment, “please take a seat ma’am, will serve in a few minutes.”

She pointed to the corner of the rooftop and said, “I will wait there.”

After ages, she was craving for a smoke and was engrossed considering options, when a mild tap on her shoulder caught her attention. Turning back, she saw the most charming man grinning at her, with a naughty smile on his lips, “Are you looking for this?” handing over a pack of Milds and a lighter, he asked.

Continued….

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Mutilated toys were scattered all over the floor and a stripped off mattress laid naked at one end of the room with the bed-sheet dangling somewhere on the couch. There were scattered cushions near the gaping main door (giving anyone a free access to the house). The TV was playing some silly “parivaar” drama. The washing machine rumbled from the balcony and the micro oven in the kitchen kept on beeping, trying to draw the attention of its master on completion of its job. To me it seemed nothing lesser than the remnants of a battle field!

I could hardly move without stepping on some squeaking toy.

“But, where were the owners of the house? Have I reached the correct address?” I wondered and undoubtedly if it wasn’t at broad daylight, I would have rushed out of this obscure house to make a call to 100. However, concern for my beloved friend overpowered the inner fear and I managed to walk towards the bedroom.

The room was dark with all the blinders down and a blended fragrance of milk and baby cream lingered in the air. Once my vision acclimatized to the darkness, I realized that the condition of this room was comparatively better. A furniture which once used to be the dressing table was stacked with baby food cans, diapers and bottles. Though nothing was scattered on the floor, the bed had way too many pillows than an average King sized bed could hold. Slowly as my gaze travelled towards the other end of the bed, I could see my friend sitting.  The sight was not even remotely close to the mushy mom and child moments portrayed in baby product ads. In a flash, I was introduced to a whole new perspective on motherhood!

My childhood friend sat upright.  The little baby seemed fast asleep on her lap with the face buried in the mother’s bosom.  The mother’s hair was disheveled. She was gazing at the closed window and hadn’t realized my sudden presence. I slowly managed to tiptoe towards the vague human structure outline in the darkness and tapped Shreya gently on her shoulder. As she turned towards me, her eyes gave me a shock! I could see nothing else than stress in her eyes. Though her frail lips succeeded in giving a smile, I couldn’t feel the utopian joy of motherhood on her facial lines. Beads of tear were running down her eyes as she sat in dissolution. I could sense her sobbing but entirely in silence. She managed to nod at me and gestured me to sit down in front of her. I barely manage to signal to her that it’s okay and murmured “I will be seated in the drawing room, watching TV, may be.” Shreya smiled once again and nodded affirmatively.

Hustling out of the room, I rushed to the balcony for some fresh air. Wasn’t motherhood supposed to be the best experience? At least, that is what we had always heard. The movies and the people around us had always given a very glossy picture of motherhood.

Listening to the stories, I had always thought a baby is an angel. Her presence can only be a matter of joy and I cringed from the thought of stress that a baby could probably bring along.  For once I also thought, “Shreya must be incapable as a mother and therefore the scenario is like this.”

A few more negative thoughts might have crossed my mind if I had not heard the warm welcome from a male voice. Turning around I saw Nikhil standing with his bright smile and a twinkle in the eyes.

I rushed towards him, gave him a tight hug and without wasting any time jumped straight to the point. “What is wrong with you guys?

What have you done to my friend?

Is she going through any mental trauma?

Is your baby, Bristi? Bristi, is the name I guess, not well?

Are you guys going through a bad patch in your relationship?”

“Sit down.” Nikhil tried to calm me.

Shoving off the bed sheet to a corner he made some space for me to sit and continued, “Let’s have a cup of coffee in next 30 minutes. It is 5:30pm. Shreya will join us by 6:00pm max and then you will get the answers to all your questions. In the meanwhile, can you help me with a glass of water? ”

On any other day, his nonchalance would have freaked me out but slowly I was getting grooved to the house’s ambience. In spite of all the indiscipline there was something very pacifying in the air.

Giving him the water, I sat beside him. Slowly he finished the entire glass, looked at the watch and muttered, “I will take 5 minutes in the washroom. Do me another favour; turn off the micro oven in the kitchen and start folding the bed sheet please.”

I acted as advised. He took a little more time than 5 minutes but it wouldn’t have been enough for any man to freshen up after a long day in office. On rushing out of the washroom, without wasting any time, he joined me and we both started placing the things in order. There was a big box in the store room, already half filled with toys, where he stacked the mess of the room. It hardly took us some 15 minutes to make the room livable. And just as we were about to sit down and look at our own efforts, his alarm made him spring up.

Tuning the TV channel to 9XM, he turned the volume high.

“What now?” I probed.

In a mysterious voice, he said, “Wait! I will be back in 5 minutes again” and vanished into their bedroom closing the door on my face.

Each moment seemed like an hour. The visuals of the mother & daughter duo started drifting in front of my eyes, engulfing me into dreadful thoughts.

It was 6:20pm pm and just as I was about to get up, when I saw the two most beautiful ladies … something has happened in this last one hour, transforming the stoned duo into the most vibrant one! Shreya still looked weak; nonetheless, in the shorts and sleeveless tees she looked the same school girl. The baby in her arms stretched for me as if she knew me for ages. Behind them stood the man of their life. It was the picture perfect moment.

Continued in Part 2

The post My Friend Became A Mother (Part 1) – A New Journey appeared first on KolkataFusion.

All her kids were married now and each had a family of their own. But, like a dream, she lived with her two sons and their families under the same roof like a united joint family. One was working with Coal India and the other with Graphite India Limited, so career could never take them away from their home.

Her daughter was also married to an officer in one of the coalfields of West Bengal, thus she too lived in the same town.

Her eldest son, a calm and composed man, was a man of gravity and not just the kids even elders feared to have a face-off with him. Only the old lady had the guts to stand in front of him and put across the silly demands that the other members had. Whereas the younger son was a man of absolutely opposite character. He was the go-to man for anything in the house. He was the notorious one and always kept the old lady with a pain on the head (even after having two kids). He loved life, he loved to live and he had introduced everyone to the true meaning of life. Though he too feared and respected his brother, he made sure that each member of the family enjoyed his or her share of stupidity.

So, where do I fit in? Let me introduce myself. I am eldest granddaughter of the old lady and her daughter’s daughter. My name – Eliza. Oh no! I am nowhere related to the Queen of England, but I was for sure the Queen of this house. How was I named? That’s a different story, let’s park it for some other day.

Coming back to that day in 2013. It was 11^th of November, Monday and I was in my hometown enjoying my holidays, with my maternal family. My grandmom was the best cook I have met till date and my holidays were full of her delicacies.

Like most of the ladies of her days, she could hardly decipher more than a few words in English. But, to my utter surprise, I found her engrossed in the newspaper, instead of her kitchen utensils. I could feel that she was searching for something. For a while I even thought of helping her out but, as the other kids were not in the house, I thought of utilizing the time in some Facebook and Twitter, instead of disturbing her.

Siting on the sofa of the drawing room, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at her and suddenly she called me out with urgency and excitement, “Eliza”

“Yes! Dida”, I smiled at her diverting my concentration form the mobile.

“Can you read out this article for me? I see your younger uncle’s name in it. I am feeling curious. God knows, what he has done this time!”

She tried hard to hide the glitter on her eyes with a tone of irritation.

I jumped out of the sofa and snatched the paper from her. She should have told me that she was trying to read a news coverage on Chotomama, instead of wasting time on trying it herself. “Boromami, Chotomami, Ma… Where are you all? Come here. There’s a news coverage on…” I was beaming with joy and the thoughts of sharing the pleasure with everyone, made me so excited. But, even before I could finish the sentence, the headline caught my eyes. My hands went cold, my legs froze and I groped for my voice. The news read, “Arup Chatteejee, an Area Chief Manager of Basantimata Colliery, BCCL, saved 167 lives & died in the roof-fall…”

Didn’t have the strength to read the entire news, my Grandmom was staring at me and she was expecting me to read out the news of her notorious son to her.

Looking up at her, I blabbered, “Hey! Your younger son has become a hero…” and ran out of the room, without even daring to look back.

P.S.: An ode to the man, ‘Chotomama’ whom we have lost in an unfortunate accident, but he had been the true hero and deserves to be remembered by his family members, coal India and the society. Mr. Arup Chatterjee was truly the character depicted here; in fact he was larger than life.

The article was first published on November 20, 2013 – Amar Chotomama

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