The disgruntled onlooker's insight into the life(or whatever) in the USA

Part I: A different dawn

17^th August, 2007. The day before, i.e 16^th, was an important day. Very important. Not only because it was my mother’s birthday but for some other reasons too. The night of the 16^th was stormy. But not a storm that everyone could see or feel. It even rained. But again, not the sort of rain everyone would be drenched in. As the storm and the rain subsided slowly in blissful sleep, it started to rain even harder. Only this time, the whole city was wet. The rain continued as I reached the airport around 5 in the morning( As someone later pointed out, I could have written that the city wept because I was leaving. But that is too melodramatic, too much me. So I deliberately decided not to write it). When I checked in, the sun was slowly coming out of the clouds. Then, a long and tiresome and uneventful journey punctuated by red wines and vodkas and whiskeys on the rocks. And about 30 hours later I was standing on a wooden verandah in a house in New Jersey. Watching the sky reddening. Watching the sun coming out once again. Only this time, an American sun on an unknown sky marking a different dawn. And for the first time in those 30 hrs the feeling sank in. I knew I was away from home. I knew I was not going back soon. And it rained once again. Inside.

P.S: This has been long due. Perhaps too long. Especially for someone like me who cribbed a lot about the usual leaving-ones-city-and-roots-and-going-abroad stuff. That too, publicly. May be even to some people’s dismay. But settling down in a new place, getting your internet connection up and working, cooking and above all, getting into a mood for writing, surely takes up a hell lot of a time. That is more or less what delayed this.

Aamar shohor

I love you more and more each day as time goes by.......Bertie Higgins.

I have only a few days left in Calcutta(yes, I prefer Calcutta to the more bengalified Kolkata) and as the day approaches, slowly but steadily, the above song keeps coming back to my already pissed mind. Yeah! Pissed!! Thats what I am. Everyone around would expect me to be beaming with joy, thrilled at the prospects of a whole new world, lost in the eternal American dream. But I already miss my city.

Ret-e mosha din-e machhi
Ei niye Kolketay achhi..............Kobi Ishwar Gupta.

The 21 years that I have spent in Calcutta(+2 in a goddamned Kanpur, that makes me 23. Sigh!!!), every single day has been like a whole lifetime. Every person I have met, every place I have visited has a special memory attached to it. Sometimes it seems as if nothing about this city is ordinary. Be it the extremely messy traffic jams, the hartals, the numerous fairs going on all throughout the year, the waterlogged streets, the festivals .........every other thing about Calcutta seems to be weaving a magic touch on my otherwise ordinary life. Sometimes a healing touch. A walk amidst the book stalls in college street, the fragrances of new and old books in my veins have often calmed a brewing storm. Many a fond memories have been chalked on the ragged old carpets of Olypub(Ahhhh! Oly!!!! More on it later). On the alleys of this city I walked alone, made friends and foes alike, did what I didn't mean to, lost what I never knew if I wanted or not ............in Calcutta I found what I long for, most.

Ei shohor jaane amar prothom sobkichhu
Palate chai joto, se aase amar pichhu pichhu.............Kabir Suman.

This city has made me what I am today, it knows me inside out. And I have tried all these years to know her, to be one with her. And now when I will be leaving for New Jersey in a few days, I don't miss my parents as much as I miss her. There would be quite a few raised eyebrows on hearing that. But the greener pastures I am leaving for, promise me a better future when I can, in all probablities afford to have my parents by my side anywhere in the world. But with all the moolah in the world raked in, I won't be able to have even a tiny piece of Calcutta around me. That very thought hurts!! Muchly. And I want to come back. Desperately. Even before I've left. Maybe its my roots calling. Maybe my soul. Which strays along the roads of the city, wherever I am.