তারাবাগ ডাইরিজ: রেলযাত্রা

আমার ছোটবেলায় ট্রেনযাত্রার এক আলাদা ভূমিকা ছিল।  এই ট্রেনযাত্রা কিন্তু দূরপাল্লার ট্রেন মানে দিল্লি বা বম্বে নয়।  নিছকই বর্ধমান থেকে কলকাতা ট্রেনযাত্রা। ছুটি ছাটা পরলেই মা বাবার সঙ্গে রওযানা দিতাম মামাবাড়ি। প্রথমে রিকশা করে বর্ধমান স্টেশন, সেখান থেকে ট্রেন-এ হাওড়া।  তারপর এল ৭ এ  বাস করে বেহালা সরশুনা, যেখানে আমার মামাবাড়ি। এই ছিল বাঁধা গত।  ট্রেন চার রকমের হত -- কর্ড লাইন লোকাল, মেন লাইন লোকাল, কর্ড লাইন এক্সপ্রেস ও মেন লাইন এক্সপ্রেস।  মেন লাইনের ট্রেনগুলো ঘুরে যেত।  তাই আমরা মূলত কর্ড লাইনের ট্রেনেই যাতায়াত করতাম। যদিও বড় স্টেশনগুলো যেমন হুগলী, ব্যান্ডেল, সবই মেন লাইনে।

    প্রথম ধাপ ছিল আমাদের তারাবাগ রিক্সা স্ট্যান্ড থেকে রিক্সা নিয়ে স্টেশন যাওয়া। প্রতিবারই দেখতাম বাবার সঙ্গে রিক্সাওয়ালার দর দাম চলত। আমার মনে পরে ৫ টাকা রিক্সা ভাড়াতেও আমরা স্টেশন এসেছি। এখন সে ভাড়া বেড়ে হয়েছে ৪০।  স্টেসনে আবার টিকিট কাটার লাইন। মা প্রতিবারই টিকিট কাটতেন, কারণ "লেডিস" লাইন সবসময় ছোট হত।  তারপর ওভারব্রিজ পেরোনো। ট্রেন প্লাটফর্ম -এ দিয়ে দিলে আমরা নেমে পড়তাম।  না দিলে ওপর থেকে ট্রেন দেখা আর প্রতীক্ষা।  সত্যাজিত রায়ের "রতনবাবু ও সেই লোকটা" পড়ার পর থেকে আমার ওভারব্রিজে দাঁড়াতে ভয় করত।

    ট্রেনে উঠে আমার বায়না শুরু হয়ে যেত হকারদের থেকে জিনিস কিনে দেওয়ার।  লোকাল ট্রেন হলে আমার পোয়া বারো, কারণ প্রত্যেক স্টেশনেই নতুন নতুন হকার উঠত কামরায়। সল্টেড বাদাম, ঝালমুড়ি, চিরেভাজা, শশা, লেবু লজেন্স, দিলখুশ, শনপাপড়ি আরো কত কি।  মনে আছে কর্ড লাইনের কোনো এক স্টেশন থেকে এক বৃদ্ধ উঠতেন সিঙ্গারা নিয়ে। উঠেই বলতেন, "আজে বাজে তেলে নয়, পোস্টম্যান তেলে ভাজা।" বায়না করলেই যে সব কিছু পেতাম এমন না, বেশিরভাগ-ই পেতাম না।  তবু যা পেতাম সেই যেন সম্পদ। রাত্রের দিকে হাওড়া থেকে বর্ধমান গামী ট্রেন এ আসত ডিম সিদ্ধ ও আলুর চপ। আর একটা জিনিসের প্রতি আমার খুব লোভ ছিল, সেটা হলো "পেপসি" বা ইংলিশে popsicle। এটা বাবা কোনদিন কিনে দেয়নি, সোজা অজুহাত "ওসব ড্রেন এর জল দিয়ে তৈরী, খেলেই কলেরা।" দুপুরের দিকের ট্রেন এ এক  চানাচুর বিক্রেতা উঠত।  তার বুলি ছিল "চুপ চাপ বসে না থেকে টুক টাক হাত চালান।" একজন লজেন্স বিক্রেতা তো তার লজেন্সের নাম দিয়েছিলেন "ক্ষীরের মৌচাক।"

    খাবার ছাড়াও ট্রেন এ বিক্রি হত নানান রকমারি দ্রব্য যেমন চিরুনি, আয়না, ঝাঁপি।  এক বিক্রেতা তো বলেই বসতেন "দাদারা, এই চিরুনিটার বাজারে দাম ২০ টাকা, আমার কোম্পানি  আপনাকে দিচ্ছে মাত্র ১০ টাকায় , শুধু তাই না দাদারা, এর সঙ্গে পাচ্ছেন আরো একটি সুদৃশ্য চিরুনি একদম বিনামূল্যে, শুধু তাই না   ....." -- দেখা যেত সে ১০ টাকায় মোট ৫ টি চিরুনি দিচ্ছে।  এ ছাড়াও উঠত বই বিক্রেতারা। আমি বই পড়তে ভালবাসতাম বলে বাবা ট্রেন এ উঠলে একটা বই কিনে দিতই।  আমি কিন্তু তাতে সন্তুষ্ট ছিলাম না, খালি মনে হত সব হকার দের থেকে সব কিছু কিনতে পারছি না কেন?

    আবার বর্ধমানে ট্রেন থেকে নামলেই রিক্সাওয়ালা রা ছুটে আসত ওভারব্রিজে। "কোথায় যাবেন বাবু?" আমরা জানতাম এরা বেশি ভাড়া চাইবে, তাই এদের পাত্তা না দিয়ে স্টেশন থেকে বেরিয়ে রিকশা করতাম।

    আজকাল সরকারী বাস হয়ে যাবার পর থেকে বর্ধমান কলকাতা ট্রেন যাত্রা একেবারেই কমে গেছে; তারপর থাকিও না আর বর্ধমানে।  গত বছর কেন জানি না ট্রেন যাত্রার দরকার পরেছিল, লোকাল ট্রেন এই কলকাতা গেছিলাম। ট্রেন এ উঠলাম, সেই আগের মতই সব স্টেশনে থামতে থামতে চলল।  হকার ও উঠলো। আমি স্রেফ দু কাপ চা ছাড়া কিছুই কিনলাম না।  বুঝতে পারলাম ট্রেনটা একই আছে, হকাররাও একিই আছেন, শুধু আমি বড় হয়ে গেছি।

     মনে পরে যায় ছোটবেলায় কোনো এক শীতের সন্ধ্যেবেলা আমি হয়ত পড়ছি।  মা রাত্রের খাবার গরম করছেন। বাবা রাত ৯ টার খবর শুনছেন।  পুরো পাড়াটাই যেন ঘুমের পরিকল্পনায় ব্যস্ত।  শুধু শোনা যায় ঝিঝি পোকার ডাক, সেই সময় আমার কানে ভেসে আসে ট্রেন যাওয়ার শব্দ। বুঝি না সেটা লোকাল, না এক্সপ্রেস, নাকি মালগাড়ি ....

My Best Friend

“When is your train tomorrow?”

“Eight o’clock in the morning. Pass me the ball.”

“It’s no fun playing football with you.”

“Yeah, I know. You suck.”

“No, there used to be ten of us playing together. That was fun. What’s a game of football with just two players!!”

“I know, I hope school reopens soon and we get to play again.”

“Am not too hopeful; from what I heard from my dad, school is not going to reopen very soon.”

“Hmm, my dad was saying something like that too. Since Paris fell, he has been very gloomy.”

“Let’s stop this game and chat.”

“Yeah, it is boring anyway.”

“We sit under the tree?”

“Yeah.”

“You are lucky Oskar. You are travelling tomorrow. You know, the last time I travelled was five years ago, when my parents took me to Warsaw.”

“Am not sure how lucky I am. My parents didn’t look very happy this morning when I mentioned about the trip.”

“Why? They don’t like to travel in trains?”

“No, something else they won’t tell me. Come to think of it, the Germans ordered to keep our doors open before we leave our house. Who travels like that? Last year, when we went to visit my uncle at Krakow, we had our doors locked.”

“Oh, I think there’s some mystery there. Let’s find it out. First thing, you don’t board the train tomorrow. Stay back with me. We will investigate in the night; let’s find out what the Germans have planned.”

“Ha ha, you baby Sherlock Holmes. I can’t risk that. You didn’t see the posters around the city yesterday, did you? It said clearly, any Jew who doesn’t board the train ‘will be subject to death penalty’”.  

“Oh. I see.”

“It’s late. Gotta go. Will you come to see me off at the station?”

“I don’t know. My mom won’t allow me perhaps.”

“Then here take these.”

“What? Ten toy soldiers, two boxes of marbles and these adventure books?”

“Yes, the Germans asked to carry the essentials only. Although marbles are essential, I will take enough in my pockets. Don’t lose them. I’ll get them back from you once am back. And one thing. you have a habit of folding pages. Don’t do that with my books.”

“I will not.”

“You better not. If I see my books have folded pages, you’ll get a black eye.”

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

“Finally, you managed to meet me at the station?”

“Yes, my mom is busy in the kitchen. I sneaked out.”

“Great. Take care of my marbles and remember what I said about the book.”

“I will. Why are you wearing a thick jacket. It’s pretty warm.”

“Dumbo, we will face winter in three months. It’s better to be prepared for the future.”

“What!! You’ll be away from home for three months!! I want to travel with you. Can you tell the German officer am your brother?”

“Forget it. A blond boy like you can never be passed as a Jew. You don’t even have a blue star armband. And besides, do you think this train ride will be very delightful? Just look at the train.”

“Hmm, I can see your point. The train looks rather dull, with just one door and no windows. What’s the space on the top for?”

“That’s for ventilation, I mean, letting the air in.”

“There are no seats or benches in the train?”

“No. Only the floor for all of us to sit on.”

“Why are they taking you in such a bad train?”

“I guess this is the beginning of an adventure; you know adventurers not always get the best transports. Remember ‘Around the world in eighty days’.’’

“I do.”

“Well, my mom’s calling me. Bye!! Take care!! Don’t fold the pages.”

“I won’t. Will you write to me once you reach your destination?”

“I will send you postcards. Bye!”

No, Oskar has never sent me a postcard. I have never heard of him again, none has. The books are still with me, pages unfolded.

Final Goodbye

“So, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Emirates?”

“Nah, Qatar”

“Oh ok.”

“Won’t your parents come today?”

“They will; I told them to come half an hour late. Knew you’d be here.”

“Yeah.. I understand.”

“Your family knows you are here?”

“Take a guess.”

“Sigh…..they still hate me? Knowing my condition? Did you tell them?”

“Yes I did.”

“And…..what? they still hate me?”

“I think not. Dad didn’t respond. Ma said she’s sorry for you.”

“Hmm. Anyway, when will you reach San Francisco?”

“10 am PST. It’ll be night here. I’ll call you next morning, ok?”

“Tell me the truth -- why are you leaving?”

“I told you; had I stayed here for some more time dad would have married me to Smita.”

“You used to like her, remember? You told me when we first met.”

“Not like her like that...stop it”.

“Don’t blush. Anyway, your parents don’t know you are leaving tomorrow?”

“Of course not. I’ll tell them once am in California.”

“Hmm, but how did you pack your bags and all without them knowing?”

“Oh my bags are with Roshni. I’ll take them from her house on my way to the airport.”

“Nice. Good job Roshni. But, wait, what will your parents think if you leave your house at the middle of the night?”

“I won’t. Planning to leave around dusk. Will tell them have an important meeting with Roshni. She will put up an alibi if they call her. They won’t suspect; and knowing your condition, they won’t.”

“Great. Eloping the house, eh?”

“If you say so.”

“Wait, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you leaving?”

“I told you!! Dad would have married me to Smita…”

“Don’t lie.”

“What?”

“Don’t lie.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do, but I know you are not honest now. You can’t bear to see us separate in the way that’s inevitable. You think this is better -- being away from me when the moment calls.”

“No, not really.”

“Don’t lie, I love you. I know you. I can understand your each and every action.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a nurse arriving with a tray of food. She looked at me, and then said “Sir, I have to feed Mr Sen.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll help him.”

She left.

I left too. After some time, when his parents arrived. We kissed for the last time as soon as the nurse left; knowing we’d probably not get a time again, in this lifetime at least. I put on the sunglasses to hide my tears as I walked out of the cancer ward of Bellevue nursing home.

The John Terry Goal

It’s early November. Delhi is not that cold. However, the lady was wearing a black sweater. She has a tendency of catching cold on flights. Hence, the attire. She comfortably took a seat near gate 4 of Terminal 3. Keeping her bag aside, she dialed a number on her cellphone, hushed some words and killed the call. She glanced at her wristwatch. There was still an hour and a half before her flight to Dubai would depart India. Then she opened her bag, took out a copy of Outlook and started reading.

She saw him 5 minutes later. She had just lifted her eyes off the magazine, without any particular reason, when she saw him. He was standing near the big flat screen TV showing a football match. He had donned the Manchester United jersey, his favorite no. 11 - Ryan Giggs. He was turning his back towards her, and she should not have seen him. However, he was disturbed by a call on his cellphone, and he started talking into it moving away from the TV -- that’s when she saw him. His hair was well kept and he was wearing a pair of khakis and loafers. Had a Manchester United backpack on his shoulders. The phone call ended in about 2 minutes and he walked towards the TV again.

Now, she noticed the TV. It was an English Premier League game between Chelsea and Sunderland being played at the Stamford Bridge. There was a corner for Chelsea. Oscar was taking it. She folded the Outlook and started paying attention to the game being played at London. Oscar swung the ball and a blue shirt standing in the crowd leapt to head it inside the goal. The Chelsea players started celebrating; she noticed the goalscorer was John Terry. Some of the Chelsea fans near the TV made some noise. Her eyes fixed at him. He was angry, cursing slowly and moving away from it towards a seat. She smiled. She knew he’d be angry, he’d curse. She knew how much he disliked Terry. She had heard him cursing on another John Terry goal couple of years back.

She adjusted her sweater and unfolded the Outlook. She could not read. She smiled again, thinking of herself, thinking of all those people who have to act strangers although they know everything about the other person.

Yatrik: A Review

Disclaimer: This is my first book review, so might not be a perfect one. I’ll try to do it my way.

Arnab Ray, the popular blogger greatbong, has delivered a story in which the protagonist realizes he is dead at the very beginning of the story. This comes as a shock! What follows is an extremely interesting cocktail of relationship surprises, human ideology and 90s Kolkata (Bengal in general). The hero, Anushtup, is given a boon of observing three events in his lifetime for which he still doesn’t have the answer. For example, how his test score ended up a 2 out of 100 in his board mathematics examination. Anushtup gets to observe all three incidents, which, then change his notion about respect, luck and life in general.

Out of the three stories written by Arnab, the first two are extremely intriguing and capture images of Kolkata in the 90s immaculately. They bring out the insecurities of middle-class bengali family during that period; how ideology is often prioritized over pragmatism, how protests become a part of the lifestyle and how ideas and the reality clash at times. Anushtup’s conversation with Ataluya Sir, I feel, is the best part of the story, where, if you were born during the 80s or 90s, can actually feel your own thoughts getting reverberated.

With such a gripping plot till almost 70% of the book, the remaining portion of the book is a big letdown. The third story is rather unconvincing, while the part which describes how Anushtup died is extremely cliched. Though, it was a surprise when the identity of the mysterious person whom he met after death is revealed. The final chapter was a big letdown. It seemed like the last portion of Dan Brown’s “The Lost Symbol”; when you don’t know why the story is not ending and characters are going on talking.

Arnab has the potential to be a good story-teller. He has imagined an unique concept here and tried to weave around it. If he had been more careful in penning the dialogues and let the conclusion of the book to be more precise and taut, this would have been a great read. Nevertheless, it’s a pretty decent effort, and I feel, people, specially Bengalis of our generation will like it.

Stammering @ Midnight

It was just another day, or maybe, another night. My insomnia had again gripped me. I looked at the alarm clock -- 1 am. It’d be difficult to sleep now. Let’s have some tea. Anyway, tomorrow is Friday and it’d not be a problem if I reach office late; or don’t reach at all. I poured water in the cup and put it inside the microwave to warm for a couple of minutes. I took out an Earl Grey tea bag and slowly dipped it into the cup. One sip and the warm tea tasted like ambrosia.

I slid the glass door open and went out to balcony. A cool breeze touched me. It’s early October and winter is yet to hit Kolkata. I took another sip and gazed out to the street in front of me. From my balcony, on the 23rd floor of the building, it looked a complete deserted stretch of land. Occasionally, a cab or a bike will fly by. Who can guess 3-4 hours ago, this would be one of the busiest roads of the city? The street lights amused me. Don’t they get bored of glowing the whole night long when there is hardly any traffic? Maybe the government should have employ some smart way of lighting the street. Say, every hour, alternate lights will glow. Or, maybe, some sensor can be applied to check the incoming traffic, and only then, the streetlights will glow. Fuck, what am I thinking. Just useless stuff, which, probably, I’ll never be able to implement. Let’s concentrate on my tea.

One more sip and I looked at the sky. The moon was a crescent. When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me stories of how "Rakshashas” had ate part of the moon. I chuckled. Taking another sip, my eyes focused on a star to the left of the moon. It was shining, or rather, twinkling. I muttered

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Starts.”

No, that’s not a typo. I said Starts. She used to say starts. Actually, she would stammer a bit and instead of stars, pronounce starts. I used to love that; you know, these sweet nothings which people get attracted to when they are in love. She’d know I love it; and, later, she would consciously say “starts”, just to see my face beaming.

I beamed again, and looked at her. “Like a diamond in the sky”

Conclusion

"Let me know how to return the book. In case it can be given to the TCS friend of yours, let me know. And if you don't want it back, that is also fine by me, but let me know either way."

 "You can keep the book" 

 " Nice. Have a good life Teddy. Bye"

 "You too. wish you all the best"