Raindrops say it’s pink on my palms
Catching butterflies is no more an art
Jaws have grown an additional tooth
Dad says there’s rot in the root

A pain that’s no more painful
A rhythm that skips a beat
A lie that’s no more untrue
Orange is now the new blue

Smiles fade into vacuum
Tears end up in deserts
Dreams adorn vacant eyes
Dusks now remind of sunrise

Sound of shower shuts my ears
Lights go off but I don’t blink
A fire’s coming my way
A knock stuns my reverie

An anklet walks away from the door
Smiles that slowly turn into roar
I scramble out into darkness
And then there’s a light on my face

I don’t know if I sounded vague in here…. wrote in a hurry on my first day of job which was today…

Later that evening, while I sat on the nearby football ground, Pota came up to me. Being my best friend, he exactly knew what went through my head and how to comfort me when I needed him the most. And I always trusted his wise mind for he always had the most unbiased and able advice. 'Get back home,' he placed his arm around my shoulder, 'you and kaki don't look good fighting with each other.' I looked at him and nodded my head faintly. 'We have never seen you two quarrel,' Pota went on, 'she's been crying all day long.'

At night, when I walked into our house, I found Ma cooking our food at the stove. She still had tears in her eyes and as I hugged her from behind, she spontaneously turned and hugged me and burst into tears. As I held her head in my arms against my chest, I realised I had hurt her more than anything else could possibly ever have. I vowed never to hurt her again, hardly realising that one day I would hurt her so much that I won't find her back again.

The next evening, while Ma and I sat on the floor, sharing our mutual experiences throughout the day, Ghungroo masi entered our house. From my childhood, I had always nurtured an antipathy towards this lady of our colony. Though she always seemed to be an ardent well wisher of our family and especially Ma, I never liked they way she imposed herself as a self-appointed guardian of us, sharing her unsolicited advice. Ma welcomed her with a big smile just the way she always did.

Ghungroo masi apparently came for an 'important work'. She had fixed a job for Ma ' a nurse to an old man in one of the neighbouring apartments. 'They are looking for nurses in two shifts for the old man,' she clarified, 'they have already fixed upon a girl for the 8am-8pm shift. They are now looking for someone in the 8pm-8am shift.'

Ma looked at me and I shook my head in disapproval. I had never stayed away from her for even a night. Now, every night she would have to stay away from home, serving some old ailing man. Ghungroo masi looked at my expression and understood Ma won't go against my will. So, she instantly added the bait. 'They are going to pay 5000 rupees a month,' she said, 'much more than what you earn by washing and cleaning so many houses. And it's an easy job. All you have to is give the medicine and bed-pan to the man when he wants to shit.' Sighing a small pause, she told Ma, 'It's a golden opportunity both for your own operation and Bunty's education.'

The very moment I understood Ghungroo masi had lured Ma into the job and now Ma is going to convince me by all means.

By the end of 2 weeks, I was slowly accustomed to Ma's absence at night. Pota used to come and sleep at our house, to give me company and also spare himself the congestion of 6 people in the same cramped up room. Ma used to leave at 7-30 in the evening, after a bath and changing her dress into a tidy one. The next morning around 8-30, she used to come back. But when she returned, she looked tired and spent. Waking up the entire night and serving to the orders of the old man was taking a toll on her health, she said. I made her promise that she won’t continue this for more than 3 months.

Late one night, when Pota and I were up in our house and talking of trifle things, Keshto da entered. Keshto was the local head of all the slum boys ' he acted as the saviour when the guys needed his help but also reprimanded them when he wasn't listened to. Most parents in the colony asked their children to stay away from him but there was a negative charm about him which attracted all the kids to him. Pota never had a liking for Keshto da, however I was always in awe of his persona. Keshto da was accompanied by a couple of his sycophants when he stepped into my house. I welcomed him in as Pota looked at him with dissent. He sat down while his other companions kept standing. He looked straight into my eyes and said, 'So, what do you plan to do?'

I was puzzled by his question. What was he trying to mean? 'Sorry,' I said, 'I didn't get that.'

'Do you plan to keep lazing around while kaki keeps working,' he said in an insulting tone, 'Or do you want to earn for her operation.'

It wasn’t a great mystery how he got to know about this. Nothing was ever a secret within the boundaries of Gobindnagar. Especially when it came to people like Ghungroo masi or Keshto da, they were among of the influential people around who knew every detail of all the houses.

'What can I do?' my tone was both ashamed and desperate, 'I have been asking her to work less. But she wants to earn the most till she has the vigour for it.'

'Work with me,' Keshto da declared, 'You will earn 3000 every night. And it will be only a weekly task.'

'He is not meant for your type of job,' Pota intervened before I could reply.

'You better keep your mouth shut motherfucker,' Keshto da answered in a gruesome tone, 'I don't want faggots like you in my team either. I am only looking for men like Bunty.'

Pota was about to reply when I held his hand and asked him to stop. 'What am I supposed to do?' I looked at Keshto da, a bit scared. 'We have a list of small businessmen who return home every night with their pockets full,' Keshto da said, 'You will have to just stand there with a knife in your hand and alarm others if there are policemen or police cars in sight while we take care of the rest.'

'But that's crime,' I exclaimed, 'this is same as robbery. I am too scared to take part in any such thing.'

'Oh come on,' Keshto da justified, 'you are not doing anything criminal. We are not going to harm the persons. We are just snatching the extra money which such people illegally extract from us.'

I swallowed and looked at him, still not convinced. 'You read Heeru Dakat in your school, didn't you?' Keshto da used my favourite childhood book hero (Bengali's Robin Hood) to ensure me of his noble intentions, 'we are doing just the same. And you are not going to do this forever. Might be for 3-4 times, and then you will have money to arrange for kaki's operation.'

The house staff informed me that my car had arrived. I got dressed and went downstairs. The driver opened the door and I got in. The car moved outside the hotel premises and darted through the EM Bypass towards South Kolkata.

I never thought it would be the last of my childhood nights in my hometown when I went out with Keshto da's gang to his task, much to the objection of Pota. But I tried to convince him of my desperation and made him swear he won't disclose this to anyone. It started drizzling as our white ambassador stood near Exide at one in the night, the masks firmly strung behind our heads, waiting for a furniture seller to pass by in his car. One of Keshto da's associate informed him over the phone that the businessman's car had crossed the last crossing and was heading towards the place where we stood. Within a moment, the nails were scattered all over the street. And just then, we saw the Santro heading towards us. As everyone got prepared with their weapons, I took out the dagger I was given for threatening the man and primarily for 'self-protection' as Keshto da said. The car screeched past the nails and within a short distance, perhaps a bit more than Keshto da had estimated, it stopped as two of the tyres got punctured.

As we all ran towards the car, the man got down and started running. Perhaps, he had estimated that the wealth he was carrying with him was in danger. And so, holding his briefcase firmly against his chest, he ran along the deserted wet streets while we chased him. It was almost near Victoria Memorial that one of the gang members got hold of him. Within a moment, all of us gathered around the spot.

'Give us the bag,' Keshto da commanded, 'if you want your good.'

'Listen, I have contacts in the police,' the man tried to warn us in a trembling voice, 'they would trace you out in no time.'

'You want to argue,' one of the other members said, 'or you want to reach home alive.'

I stood at the path obstructing him from racing ahead, my inexperienced hands still shaking in fear, as we were all now getting drenched in the heavy downpour. The argument between the man and the gang went on while I kept praying for the man's safety, when all of a sudden we heard another gang approaching us. Their scream took me out of the reverie, as others turned to look at them. It was a group of four middle aged women ' clad in fashionable saris, dark lipstick shades, carrying umbrellas, and typical hooker accent. However, their faces were not clearly visible under the umbrellas.

'What are you guys doing there,' one of them said, 'do you want us to shout and alarm the police?'

'Are you threatening us,' Keshto da replied, 'so, now whores are going to tell us what's legal and what's not. Wow!'

As the ladies walked ahead amidst the silence of the midnight, I could observe that one of them was limping. And as they shut their umbrellas and confronted us, I could almost feel my heart stop beating. Within a moment my eyes almost soaked in tears, as I realised what Ma's night-long tiring nurse duty was all about. And as she limped ahead along with the other ladies, my entire body started shivering. So that's what made her earn more than her maid job. I couldn't believe it was happening to me, to us. I just wanted to run away from the spot. I looked straight at Keshto da, who had also realised by then that one of those street-walkers was my Ma. He nodded at me with a look that assured me this entire thing won't last for long.

'Go away from here,' he said loudly to the women, 'or else we might not spare you either.'

Seeing the opportunity, the man realised it was a ripe moment for him to plan an escape. As the debate between our gang and the women continued, he decided to flee and ran straight ahead towards me. As a loud shout of 'catch him' arose from among the gang, the man darted straight into me, lifting his case and trying to hit me. Even before I could remove my hand, he had run his chest straight into my dagger. And all of a sudden, a huge roar of shock and fear rose among both the groups. I tried to rest my arm beneath his waist and stop him from falling, but he grabbed my mask and thumped straight onto the wet ground, the dagger deep inside his blood wet chest.

I looked up and saw Ma looking straight into me. There was a look of shame and fear in her eyes, as she stood still. Her face was stone stiff as tears melted from her eyes. Strangely, there was no hatred in her eyes, perhaps she didn't know how to hate me. But, she knew her secret has been revealed.

One of the members from our gang collected the brief case while Keshto da pulled out the dagger from the man's chest. The women looked at us in shock and started running away. Keshto da tried to pull me along with them, the same way as one of the women tried to pull Ma from the spot. But, we both were stiff, and finally both our companions left us there and flee. Ma and I looked at each other for a while, both wondering what to say, as the thunder manifested the numb silence that existed between us. And suddenly, I turned and started running. I just wanted to escape, I wanted to run away from her. I didn't turn again to look at her. I just ran from the spot, as fast as I could, my legs not defying my will. As I ran on the bridge, I knew I wanted to get away from the city as well. When I finally reached Howrah station, I heard an announcement of a train leaving for Mumbai. Perhaps, it was the call that was destined to change my life and I quickly decided to board the train.

As my cab raced along the streets towards South Kolkata, I looked outside the window, hoping to see her once more. Perhaps that wasn't the place I dreamt her to be, but I knew not where to find her. As the driver drove endlessly, I realised this couldn't be the end of our story ' of Ma & Me

The End

A short fictitious tale about a guy and his mother. It’s in two parts. Hope you all like it.

As I stepped out of the airport, the city suddenly seemed a stranger looking at me with contempt, despite the fact that it was the same city which had witnessed my childhood until the night I decided to flee from here. Strangely, an air of recognition seemed to blow on my face, though nothing was the same anymore ' neither me nor this city.

As my taxi steered through the streets, I felt that the city had changed drastically over the years ' the more fashionable cars, the flock of flyovers, the quicker pace of life ' it was not the Calcutta I remembered, perhaps a new Kolkata that still hated me for all that happened that night. But as the car meandered into the narrow lanes of Gobindnagar slums, I realised that there were some aspects about this city which hadn't changed yet, beside the government.

As I paid off the driver and slowly walked through the narrow lanes bordered by homes on both sides, I could sense a host of suspicious and inquisitive eyes staring at me. The kids ran around, either semi or totally naked, the ladies sitting at the doors with their nighties tucked up to the knees, the shower of expletives, the bare chested foul smelling men bringing buckets of water from the nearby tube-well, the ailing old men coughing ' it all felt like a sepia version of my own childhood played to me on a three dimensional screen. The nauseating odour was familiar yet it made me puke as I was no longer accustomed to it. As I finally stopped outside my old house ' I could see myself and my mother at the doorstep, as she forcibly poured the mustard oil on my unkempt hair and rubbed her palms against it to make the oil soak, and I shouted in protest.

But the house was now occupied by new residents. The lady who inhabited in this house now saw me staring at her home and came out. An obvious feeling of displeasure was evident from her tone. 'What do you want here?' she said sharply, a flock of Gobindnagar residents already gathering behind me. 'I came here to find my mother,' I said, 'We used to stay here 12 years ago.'

Suddenly, the air around me changed. The lady now looked at me with less hatred but more wonder, while a roar of murmur rose among the crowd. 'But we have been staying here for 10 years almost,' the lady said, 'ever since my marriage. This was unoccupied except for a very old lady who used to come here at times and get it cleaned. She died last year.' I sighed and nodded. It couldn't have been my mother; she would be at most 45 now, so by no means was she old. 'Can you tell me where Pota stays?' I asked her. ‘Yes,' she replied with an assuring smile, 'round the corner. The kids will take you there.' She shouted at one of the kids, 'Naru, take this dada to Pota da's house.'

The little guy, who would have been hardly 8years old and perhaps the most fragile among the rest, looked at me with a smile which said that he was more than ready to help. I looked at him fondly and smiled. '12 years back I was like him,' I thought to myself, 'the leanest guy around. Now, I have put on weight and a look that was far off from my childhood fragility. Naru rushed ahead and before I reached Pota's house, I saw a young man almost my age come out of the house. Pota still looked the same, a bit taller and had a beard now. The doubtful question in his eyes strengthened my anxiety that he won't remember me. But, as I walked closer, there was a sudden spark in his eyes and his jaws dropped in awe as he looked at me head to toe and burst out in an amazed laughter. Once again, my best friend proved me wrong. 'Bunty,' I heard the name almost a decade later.

'Do you know where Ma is?' I sat on the couch in his sole cramped up little room that had only a half-door and a curtain to cover its contents from a stranger eye. Pota's mother who was cooking on a rotten stove in one corner of the room looked at me with surprise. 'Didn't you two leave together that night?' she asked, 'we thought you both had gone away.' I shook my head and looked back at my childhood friend who had his eyes fixed on me. And I knew he didn't share his mother's thought.

'I always knew I might not see you again,' Pota confided in me a while later when his mother had gone out to fetch some sweet for me, 'but kaki went missing since the same night. Everyone thought we you both had left together. I never refuted hoping that they are right.'

My jaws had stiffened in shame as I whispered, 'And what about Keshto da?'

Pota smiled sarcastically at me, 'He is a man to reckon about now.'

'He never got caught?'

'A couple of times,' Pota nodded, 'but he has mightier hands resting on his head that take him out every time he manages to get in.'

As I sipped the tea from the small steel glass, Pota asked the question I thought he was wondering ever since the moment he saw me. 'But what are you doing now?' the tone was that of doubt than surprise, 'You seem completely changed.'

I narrated everything that happened to me ever since that night, ever since the moment I boarded the train to Mumbai that night.

When I got down at Dadar 12years back, I didn't have an idea where I was destined to be. All I knew was I couldn't go back, whatever destined for me was there. But as time went by, I slowly felt lost in the melee to survive among the hundreds of young guys like me, all trying their luck, dreaming their way from rags to riches. The tea-stall assistant job on the platform of Bandra could help me manage only two meals a day but not a roof for shelter. The platform still passed on as an abode until the Mumbai rains replaced the summer, and I decided it was time to start thinking big. For that, I needed a new job.

The next I landed up was an assistant to a Kashmiri carpet seller, Rahman. He was a genuine person but an unable businessman, and in attempts to cover his loopholes, I learnt the tricks of the trade. As my contribution in selling carpets gradually surpassed that of my master's, the bigger lords started trusting me more and I kicked my way past Rahman to become a seller myself. The lords kept on entrusting me with greater power and responsibilities, hardly realising that my aim was never to get the better of Rahman, I had just started climbing my ladder with him as the first rung.

From a door-to-door seller to wholesaler to regional distributor, I kept on growing pleasing each senior level on my way up and then riding past them. I made friends, disciples and bundles of enemies. But most of all, I made clients who would swear by my new name, Basantlal. Today, I was one of the leading exporters of carpets from India ' the plush flat overlooking the Marine Drive and Mercedes bearing testimony to that.

However, amidst all this confusion and desperation to grow, I had kept on hold the second promise that I had made to myself ' search for Ma.

As I stepped out of Pota's house, I gave him my card and asked to get in touch if he ever felt a need. As my taxi sped back towards the hotel and Pota waved towards me, I felt I was leaving my childhood, for ever. Time seemed to move in a recapitulating mood as I leaned back on my seat and remembered all that led to that night.

Our family constituted of Ma & Me. My father, a rickshaw puller on the streets of Kolkata, had died a few weeks after my birth, overrun by a drunken truck driver. Since then, Ma had been taking care of our family of two, working as a maid in neighbouring apartments while I grew up in the slums as a fragile young guy, dependent on mother for everything. Even when I was 14 and taller than Ma, I used to sit on her lap and get caressed by her, a pampering not received by many in my neighbourhood. Every morning, she used to rub her hands wet with mustard oil on my hair as I protested, ever in disgust of the smell.

At an early age, I was enrolled in the local municipal school and much to Ma's pleasure, I proved to be a good student, acing in almost all subjects especially Mathematics. It was a few months before my Standard X board exams that I discovered Ma was slowly losing her vigour. An overgrown bone in her right foot was slowly hampering her movement. I saw her getting exhausted more often than before. I avoided sitting in her lap lest it pains her leg. At night, while she lay on the floor, I sat near her and massaged her foot ' it got her some relief and made her sleep more comfortably.

As I had expected, my exams went off pretty comfortably and I was certain that I would perform the same way I had been doing at school. But by then, I could also notice that Ma had started to limp a bit. The long hours of work tortured her health even more and the doctor finally concluded that the defect can't be remedied without operating. The cost of the operation was however beyond our reach, and everyday this topic became a contention of debate between Ma and Me. We knew the cost of the operation would consume all that she had saved and still keep lagging. But Ma couldn't afford to spend all that for her operation for she wanted me to go to college and her entire savings was meant for my education.

'How will you study if I spend all that money now?' she reasoned.

'There's still two years left for that,' I argued back, 'obviously something can be managed by then.'

'Bunty, two years is a small time,' her tone was submissive. She came ahead and held my cheeks in her arms, 'if you don't go to college, how will you earn your mother a home?' I pushed her hands off. 'If you go lame by then,' my tone was insulting, 'I am not going to lift you and take you inside.'

I had never been so harsh to her. But I couldn't take the fact that she would ignore her health in excuse of something that was still 2 years away. A rush of tears filled her eyes as I darted out of the house. I heard her call a couple of times but amidst a shocked crowd who had never witnessed a dispute in our house, I walked beyond the reach of her voice.

As the taxi finally reached my hotel, the porter came out to carry whatever little luggage I had. Walking across the giant hall of the five star hotel, I remembered how Ma and I used to walk past it during my childhood and dream about coming here one day, to have food and stay in the deluxe rooms as the Hindi movies showed. Today, I could afford it all, but my partner in dream wasn't there to see me fulfil it. I stood at the glass wall of my room and saw the city while the sun set in at the distant horizon, ushering in another stream of memories.

To be continued…

1BHK flat, 10 hours of job a day
You stay a city life– congested, but alone
‘The country would be a change,’ you surmise, ‘calm and serene!’
So, you pack the weekend in travel bags
And zoom! You are off to terrain unseen.

Looking through the wind-glass
Peeping into the rear mirror
The roads seem leading to wonderland
But then the sound comes, a screech
And all your dreams shatter like a house of sand.

Tyres have stuck in the mud
Brakes have stopped working
The accelerator doesn’t move the car ahead
You press the horn because you want to scream
‘If things have to go wrong, they will,’ Memphis had said.

There’s not much you can do
‘But why me?’ you scream at the sky
As if you wanted it to happen to someone else.
You have no idea what lies ahead
But He laughs coz He had played many such games

Defeated, frustrated, you walk along the road
What seemed pretty moments back
Have no significance to you anymore
But, all of a sudden, you hear someone whistling
And your mind enquires questions galore.

A little boy comes wandering from the other side
Torn are his shoes, ruffled is his hair
His shirt has dirty patches all over
But, he dances to himself, singing all alone
You wonder, ‘What do I gain trying to act sober?’

He smiles at you
Greeting or was it sarcasm?
Amazed you are and watch him pass by
And then, something beckons your name
Look around, it’s Nature in her beauteous fame.

The cliff overlooks the turquoise sea
Playing hide-n-seek with its own waves
A nightingale sings hymns of joy, messenger of the spring
The flowers tell you it’s the season of love
‘Heavens must fall here,’ you hear your heart sing.

Blame yourself, What have I been missing!
Isn’t this what I came for?
The nature is ahead, virgin is her land
You thank the boy, but then it strikes you
Did you just see nail-marks on his hand?