India

I’ve always considered Shillong to be my second home. I have fond memories of the place and my childhood. My summer vacations always meant Shillong. As we ascended the altitude the breeze would get cooler, the air would smell fresh and it seemed the pine trees welcomed me in their folds with love and warmth.
Those endless walks – be it in the Ward’s Lake, the Beaver Road, the golf links… the shop hopping in Police Bazaar, jalebis from Dilli Mistan, the road side alu tikkis & chole and roasted corns! And also sometimes it was a quick dip in the Crinoline pool. We’d always walk, take the zigzag short cuts and never did it tire me nor did my feet ache.
It was the perfect holiday for me year after year and I never got bored of this yearly custom!
I never realized that this once a year rendezvous wouldn’t last a lifetime.
With my studies taking the better of me and Maa’s passing away it almost stopped. Because Shillong without my Maa wasn’t fun you see. It’s always been with her that I prized every moment of Shillong. My Shillong Aita was still there but for some raison d'être which I never understood my Guwahati Aita prevented me from visiting her. I never asked her, it seemed so useless to ask the woman because I know she’d never tell me the truth or the rationale behind her decision.
Thus ended my Shillong rendezvous leaving me morose.
It however doesn’t mean that I never visited this place again. I did. I did it with my friends and during my Unilever days as a trainer; too many times impossible to count now. But it never felt the same. Yes, the breeze did get pleasant as we climbed the hills, the air still felt fresh, I still felt the pine trees welcoming me, but somehow the warmth and love was missing. It didn’t feel like “home coming”. I felt like an alien in midst of strangers and sightseers.
One thought constantly haunted me in my every visit. I wanted to meet Aita, just see her once, but I was so psyched with Guwahati Aita’s “sermons” that I stopped myself form going to my second home, leaving me bitterer every time I came back from there.
Years passed by, almost a decade, in fact a decade and two years… it was the month of August of 2008. We again decided to go to Shillong for a day. It was Neeyor’s first trip to this wonderland. We packed our picnic basket and got going. As we stepped out of home, I made up my mind that whatever it costs I’ll visit Aita. And throughout the hundred kilometers of the journey the only thing on my mind was how Aita would react, was she cross with me for not visiting her for so long, would she let me inside the house, would she reprimand me. I knew it was useless to ponder over these. All I could do was face the situation as it would unfold.
Once we reached Shillong we strolled through Police Bazaar, bought a few knick knacks and then proceeded towards Upper Shillong for lunch. My mind all the while was affixed to Aita’s thoughts only. Post lunch we were back in town and it was the moment I had waited for so long.
Nirav didn’t know the place; I gave him the directions to Aita’s house. As I stepped out of the car and walked towards the gate the compound looked unfamiliar. The gates were locked, I banged on it but no one opened. Having no other option left I went to the neighbour’s house on the opposite. The lady who’s Aita’s friend was amazed to see me, she hugged me like her own child and when I said the gates were locked she ordered her servant to accompany me to Aita’s house. She looked somewhat bewildered but I let pass by. I thought it was all but natural to look bemused to see me after such a long time.
I realized my folly when the servant let me in through a smaller gate. Once inside the compound I also realized that the main house had been converted to a pre-nursery school and Aita was perhaps staying only in one part of that huge house. The servant left and I knocked the door. A few seconds later a young lad looked me through the glass pane and then opened. I asked about Aita and he let me in. As I went inside I saw her seated on the bed. She turned around as I entered the room and said “Nandini, why did it take you so long to come?” I stood froze. She recognized me I thought! As per everyone who has met her prior to me told that she recognizes nobody.
She looked so much the same except for her hair which had turned into a shade of silvery white and her skin had fine wrinkles. Never has a woman looked so good in wrinkles. Her hair was neatly tied into a bun. As I hugged her she still smelt the usual of Pond’s talcum powder. I didn’t even realize when tears started dripping from my eyes. And I didn’t have an answer to her question. I couldn’t tell her that I was “very busy with work, married life and a baby”. I couldn’t tell her my Guwahati Aita “psyched” me not to visit her. I simply didn’t have an answer. I never felt as culpable as the way I felt then. I introduced Nirav and Neeyor to her. She spoke to Nirav for a long time and then she touched Neeyor’s little feet and said, “Everyone says babies are God’s replica, can this little one tell me when will I die? Can she bless me so that I die soon?”
I felt heavy, the lump in my throat felt painful. I felt so silly and stupid to have thought whether she’d let me inside the house, scold me or not talk to me. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
She again started talking. She told me the same things she had told Nirav. I thought maybe she had forgotten and hence repeating those to me. But I was wrong. For all the time we spent with her, she kept narrating those few lines of her life over and over again. Her sorrows, her misgivings and her loneliness. Then she started speaking about my Maa, my Aunt and my cousins. But the irony is she could not realize that I am her daughter’s daughter. She spoke about Dipli (my cousin) but failed to picture her and my Aunt as mother –daughter.
I felt so sorry for her. I wanted to bring her back to Guwahati with me. But that wasn’t possible. She couldn’t walk; she’s on a wheelchair when she’s not on the bed. The lad who opened the door stays with her and there’s another woman who cooks for her and nurses her.
As we left Shillong, meandering through the pine groves, descending the altitude, I still felt heavy, I still cried and tried to hide those tears when Nirav or Boon looked back to talk to me. But the guiltiness gradually faded and it was almost gone by the time we were home.
Visiting her truly seemed “home coming”.
It’s just a few days ago I heard from someone in the family that Aita’s no more. I don’t even know exactly when that was. I was casually sms-ing Loya when she sms-ed me back “Sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
At that moment I only prayed and wished maybe she passed away in silence and in peace. This is what she wanted so desperately. I hope she finds solace wherever her spirits are now. At least I saw her once, for a few minutes and even if she remembers nothing she did ask me why I took so long to visit her…
I don’t know if Shillong would feel the same again. If those pine trees would ever wrap me in their love and warmth, if the Oakland house would be the same without her, would I ever get the feeling of “home coming”…

I had a lousy boyfriend all for myself while I was in Delhi!
He was a slimy, disgusting and greasy character who supposedly was the guy I was seeing!
First thing first, looking back to those days I still curse, ridicule and poke my brains to find out what were the reasons which made me jump into this relationship in the very first place!
Looks?
Attitude?
Personality?
AWWWWWEEEE GAWWWWWWWWWWD!
He had none!
What did this guy have in him that attracted me?!
I mean he was such a terrible kisser too!!!
Anyways that’s beside the point.
More importantly this boyfriend of mine made my already hectic life all the more miserable.
He would suspect me with every male species, he would make me “gift” him things (read shirts, trousers…. All those “end of season” sale stuff), he would literally live on my expense!
All my friends directly or indirectly would advise me to snap ties with him and they said “sooner the better”… but the bastard and sucker that he was, I don’t understand how he read my mind. Every time I withdrew myself, he’d at his romantic best! He would do his best to woo me… make me feel special and wanted!
I remember once Silver & I were going back to Delhi in the North East Express and we both decided that we should make a trip to Goa to do away with the agonizing Delhi winters. As we planned the Goa trip I completely forgot about my lousy boyfriend and reality struck me only when we reached Delhi! I asked him straight, “Are you interested to go for a vacation in Goa? If you are then please get your tickets done!”
And the guy did pile on with us!
But then I truly believe in destiny….
Had it not for him, I’d never meet Nirav with whom I fell in love left right and centre… got married and have no regrets!

Staying away from home kinda makes you homesick. The tendency to sulk and brood over the comforts of your home, craving for home cooked food, love, caring and attention accentuated every time I returned Delhi after a break and promised myself to cut down on my home coming trips so that I could do away with this lingering feeling of missing home so much. So strong was this feeling that once me and a couple of friends literally screamed in sheer delight when we spotted a Maruti 800 bearing Assam registration near India Gate!
The episode which made me scribble this in the first place is rather interesting.
It’s about a person called Tamuli. Tamuli is my Aita’s tenant; he still is a tenant as on date. He frequented Delhi quite often and Aita would send me cakes, biscuits, pickles, pithas and sometimes even vegetable tenga through him. During those days I had a pager and he would send me the weirdest of message to come and collect my things from him. He usually stayed in one particular hotel in Ashoka Road. I burst out laughing out loud and so did my class mate Pooja when my pager beeped and I read this “Please meet me at room no.102 after 6.00 p.m. – Tamuli”!
It was so amusing that the message was relayed to everyone in the class and we all had a good laugh. As I got ready to visit Tamuli, by the grace of God I chanced upon to meet Silver! I tagged Silver along with me, I told him that I had some urgent work and that if he’d accompany me I’d treat him to momos in Dilli Haat later in the evening. Silver readily agreed and we hopped in a DTC bus to meet Tamuli.
Tamuli was in the lobby and was walking up and down the aisle impatiently. As he saw me with Silver tagged along his smile slightly paled!
He said, “I thought you’d come alone”.
“Well, we had some work together and so thought of dropping here and meeting you, why?” I asked
He didn’t say anything and suggested that we either go to his room or sit in the restaurant. He asked “Are you people hungry?”
Before I could say anything Silver said “Oh! Yes! We are famished”.
So we went to the restaurant – Coconut Grove which incidentally was famous for its South Indian cuisine during those days. I don’t know whether it still holds true after these long years. We ordered chicken dosas and filter coffee. The dosas, I must tell you were one of the best I’ve ever tasted and it was big enough for three people actually!
Tamuli’s wallet was slimmer by a thousand rupees for three dosas and three filter coffees. Having filled our appetite as we walked out of the restaurant I asked Tamuli if Aita had sent anything.
He sheepishly looked at me and said “No”. He further added that he “wanted to meet me”; that I should take him “shopping” and also earnestly urged me not to tell a soul (read Aita & his WIFE) that he had met me in this visit of his. The reason was simple, my semester exams were approaching. Aita knew it and hence she didn’t send anything this time.
We decided to meet the next day since I didn’t have classes. I said I’d arrive by noon and would show him around.
The next day as promised I reached the hotel right on dot. I called him from the reception and within ten minutes or so he came. This time he was rather pleased to find that Silver was not tagging along with me. I took him to the British Council Library first where I had to return a few books and he was left speechless to see the library. Our very own District library was the only one he thought was a magnum opus!
Then I took him shopping. We first walked through Janpath, since he couldn’t make up his mind what to pick and what not to we headed to Sarojini market where he picked up a few odd stuff. And he kept suggesting me that I should buy something for myself too. I kept declining this offer. From Sarojini we went to Ansal Plaza and finally to Dilli Haat where he bought a few bed covers. He handed me one inspite of me repeated Nos. he said he wouldn’t have my No as an answer and we parted our ways, though I am hundred and one percent sure he would have loved to kept me latched on to him longer.
When I narrated this to my friends they were amused and at the same time they said I was an “Idiot” not to have shopped at his expense!
The story doesn’t ends here.
I kept recalling how he pleaded me not to tell anyone back home that he met me in his this visit. I didn’t understand what was wrong in telling Aita about it.
My exams were over and I decided to visit home before our summer projects started, very gleefully forgetting about the “homesick” part!
It was good to be home again. I t was good to be treated like a princess and all I did the whole day was eat, sleep and meet friends or go for long drives.
It was quite “routine” for Tamuli and his wife to have a cuppa tea with Aita at 7.30 p.m. I never understood this arrangement and I was never keen to be part of their conversations in any ways.
It was just this routine thing going on when I reached home after meeting some friends. Aita asked to me sit down with them and try the “kata nimkis” Tamuli’s wife had made. I tasted them and I must appreciate that she did a fairly nice job.
Suddenly the Devil in me came to the forefront. I asked Tamuli’s wife offhandedly “Bou, has the colour of the bed covers faded?”
She asked me “Which bed covers?”
“The ones Tamuli da bought the last time he was in Delhi, in fact he gave me one and when I washed the colours came out.” I also advised her to wash the bed spreads separately just in case!
To this date I’ll never forget how constipated and cramped Tamuli’s face looked, the erroneous hunch on his wife’s look and my poor Aita all bewildered!
And as for my own self I never thought I could get this bitchy!
Bou – in Assamese brother’s wife is referred as bou
Da: short form for dada – brother.
Aita: Grandmother

As a part of the course, internships/ apprenticeships were compulsory for us. My classes started at 2.00 p.m and it continued till 8.00 p.m, six days a week. We had two classes everyday – a set of two classes stretching for three grueling hours.

I thoroughly enjoyed a few classes – especially the ones in Creative taken by Mr Sujit Sanyal, we never looked in our watches no matter even if the class stretched beyond 8.00 p.m. But that was not the case always, our craving for bunking classes were at its highest when we had our Market Research or Statistics classes. And it was simple to do that. Our classrooms were on the ground floor and the windows had no iron grills or railings whatsoever. So what we did was when we had a stats class at the 5.00p.m-8.00p.m slot, we’d attend the first half i.e. from 5.00 p.m to 6.30 p.m – after which we had a ten minutes break to freshen up. In this ten minutes we did stash our bags out off the windows, go out and before anyone could get a hold of a thing or two we were as free as birds!

Our mornings were kept free for our apprenticeships.

I remember my first assignment. Someone form the Indian Express Group came over to brief us about the Company and explained us what we were required to do. The publication had some sets of tabloids (the Business publication division) which were not on the stands for sale but one had to subscribe those – example there was one called Express Computers, then there was one for Hotels, one on beverages so on and so forth. So our job was to get subscriptions for these tabloids.

http://www.expressbusinesspublications.com/

We were handed a kit with a bunch of papers – a track sheet to keep a list of people visited, daily sales record, daily traveling expenses and a pack of visiting cards with the Indian Express logo where we had to write our names ourselves in the “Represented by…………………….” space.

I was elated. My first job, so what it was just part time termed as “Apprenticeship”. When I called home and told my people they couldn’t believe their ears. Just two months in Delhi and I have a job with such a renowned publication…

So every morning I would take out the map and read the Connaught Place carefully and then make my visits – one day it was the Barakhamba Road, the next day it was Kasturba Gandhi Marg and the next was Janpath - it was here in Janpath that for a moment I lost my interest towards my job and the lines of shop – be it clothes, accessories and all the jing bang which lured me! And I decided that the next Sunday that was on its way would be spent exploring the beauty of Janpath – of the shops, of gorging on the road side veggie burgers and cold coffees and yes indulging on those aromatic essential oils and perfumes…

The Indian Express work continued till our classes ended for the Diwali break. I got ready to come home after five rigorous months of living on my own.

It was the last day before our Diwali break, when our Dean surprised us by handing us chocolate boxes when we all anticipated she would give us our 1st term mark sheets as well as a dressing down! The icing on the cake was when we all received our pays, a cheque of HSBC bank – the sum was nominal – it was around 2800/- but its worth was more than the figures it reflected.

It was after all my first pay cheque!

I remember Dipli (my cousin again who was doing her Literature studies & working for Katha) advising me not to join any sort of associations when in Delhi. I didn't ask her why she said that, she must have had her good reasons to caution me and at the same time even I am not the type of some who’d be interested to join any groups!
During those days the number of Kharkhowas was quite less compared to what it is now. I chanced to meet a few whacko’s who camped behind NDSE-I – they stayed on the fifth floor of a building – it was a big open space with two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. They were seven of them – two girls and five guys – a bunch of crazy people who lived life totally on the razor’s edge.
During those days cell phones were by no means a commodity as common as it is now. Only the rich and the affluent owned these gadgets. The seven wretched souls who lived on that terrace had a fine arrangement made – there was a PCO in the ground floor. The agreement was made that whenever a call was made to any of the seven fellas, the PCO guy should press a bell which rang on the fifth floor. And if that wasn’t enough, they had a chart stuck on the PCO with their names written and the number of times the PCO guy should ring the bell. For example if the bell was buzzed once it was for Mac, if it was buzzed twice it was for Partha, if buzzed thrice it was for Pomi…. so on… till it buzzed for seven times! It was funny to see them listen to the annoying buzz attentively and then run down hurriedly the entire flight of stairs to speak to whoever called…!
Many a weekends were spent partying on that terrace. There had been times when all of a sudden the gas cylinder would be exhausted in the middle of our partying sessions and the guys would burn stacks of newspapers to cook the food! They used the same set of bucket and immersion rod to heat water for a bath as well as boil pork! And I’ve seen Mac washing and cleaning cabbage with a scrubber!
Mac is one of those rare people I could go on and on writing – he has made us walk to Chanakya cinema to watch movies… he once took me & another girl called pinky for snacks and tea in Bengali sweets in NDSE-I and as we were through Mac asked both of us very seriously “Are you girls wearing high heel?”
“No” came the reply from both of us.
“Good” said Mac. He further added, “How fast can you girls run?”
We got an inkling of what he would suggest next, so both Pinki and me decided to pay the bill!