For her

It was another May afternoon. An 11-year-old boy stood staring at a departing black-yellow cab at a new-found place called hostel till a bell rang for the evening snacks. That was the first night the boy would spend without his mother by his side. That was the first time also he felt like a leaf in a turbulent river — nothing to cling on.

Almost a same feeling happened to him when he was barely four years old. His mother was away on an official training and those three months — also the summer — were enough to make him forget about the entity called mother. On a day she returned from training, he was seen standing at a corner of the room on a bed meant for him and her mother. He refused to go despite repeated requests from the lady — who has been his companion throughout all the four years — who joined the service just weeks before, from which she would return only some 25 years later, on March 31 this year.

Images drift by just like that — of the evenings he and his elder sister waiting for a pack of Amul Crisp, of the journeys to Behrampore on DSTC buses amid the sal forests on the either side of a picturesque highway to Ilambazaar, of the occasional visit to a suburban town of Barasat from the steel city of Durgapur with two leather bags, of the evenings before the short trips while his mother would pack bags and toys and bat-balls and what not!

So much to learn from the lady with indomitable spirit to take care of the two kids, as her husband was away most of the time of the year to various cities. The way she taught her children how to pick the best of the item in the morning markets, how to be self-sufficient, how not to feel uncomfortable in any situation, how not to be judgmental about anything, how to bury the ego and move on in life has been amazing. She nurtured the tender minds with an informidable power of femininity.

Today, when the rest of the world was celebrating Mother’s Day, she was spotted in the kitchen making food for her children, quite oblivious of the fact that it was supposed to be HER day. But how does it affect her? It’s Mother’s Day for her, every day.
Probably that’s the reason she asked her son when he was on way to office: "Kal to asbi na, kothay khabi tui (Since you’re not coming home tomorrow, where will you have your food)?" I just stopped, but could not say a word in reply. That has been my Ma, as always.

©Supratim Pal, 2009

Twenty20

What are the best ways to spend 20 minutes?

The simple question came to my mind when we got an official message from our boss that we should not exceed the 20-minute limit if we go to have tea/coffee during working hours. Forget the classroom-type functioning of a newspaper desk like that of mine, I tried to bury arguments and anger to think what the ways are to spend the 20-minute timeframe.

The first thing came to my mind was that Mahadev da (our very own chai-wallah on the pavement) can easily serve a cup of tea or coffee in 20 minutes. That is not a problem at all. I can coolly step out and have my cup of tea and return to my workstation. But if I don’t come back? Instead, take a Metro or a bus back home. In a Metro, I can be almost halfway on my way home in 20 minutes. But a bus is not that fast, especially during the rush hours in Calcutta, where average vehicle speed is an astonishingly low at 6kmph. So, for my 17km journey from office, the bus would take at least 3 hours! But it won’t. The road I usually take, which links the city with airport, is a bit faster than others within Calcutta. In 20 minutes, I might reach Ultadanga, from where it would take another 20 minutes to reach my apartment near airport.

If I don’t take any transport back home, but try to spend the time at a bar near our office in the CBD area, what would be the best idea? Walk straight to Elfin, order beer, gulp it, pay and come back. Probably it would take just 15 minutes! After all, Elfin (and Chung Wah) are just next-door neighbours to us, and we should respect that if I get a 20-minute break.

In this IPL Twenty20 season, you can watch — like I did — Sachin-Jayasuriya ripping KKR bowlers apart and in just 20 minutes they rake up 50 runs in five overs. Or in election season, you can stand in a queue at a booth near you for 20 minutes to press the button for the right candidate — something I want to do on May 13. Or take a stroll by the Ganga on a breezy evening. But the time is 20 minutes!

One of my colleagues summed up the 20-minute project with an intelligent input. Foreplay: 10 minutes, play: 7 minutes and post-play: 3!!

What is your take for a 20-minute slot? Tell me....

©Supratim Pal, 2009