An Ode to The City of Joy and My Dear Departed Father 1.0

 

As I try to revive my  tryst with blogging, I ponder over what could be the best way to pen a few words. While blogging might be out of vogue, and out of fashion, I realize that my love for words will continue unabated. I commit to writing more, and loving each bit of it, the best way of doing a Sri Ganesh is to write an ode to the City of Joy and my dear departed father, both inseparable parts of me. In fact my late father Shri K. Subramanian was a true Bengali, even his last days his eyes would light up and shine bright at the mention of Kolkata or a Bengal Sweet Delicacy. When he was into his last few days, and it became increasingly difficult for us to make him have his food, my wife Hema asked him if he would like to have Mishti Doi, immediately the hundred watts bulb in the pupil of his eyes lit up and he repeated "Mishti Doi, Mishti Doi". I would want to admit a hard truth here. In the early days of his passing away, I was downcast, depressed, buckets into tears, my mind was fighting a battle of how to lead a life without him. That is when my sister Uma hit me with a few powerful words. "Dont mourn him Karthik, celebrate him, that is the best way to remember him" I now realize that I should have paid heeds to her words a little bit earlier but better late than ever. So this Ode.

Today is a Sunday and my favorite day of the week in my childhood days because it gave me unlimited hours of access to my father and his scooter, the Royal, blue colored original Made in Italy Vespa WBN8251. "Pollama Karthik" would be the call from Anna(Means Elder Brother in Tamil But thats the way me and my sister would call him-Blessings of being part of a Joint Family System) and I would not for one bit hesitate to hop on in front of his scooter, him seated and myself standing in front of him. Thus would begin the journey from our house on Gariahat Mode, to wherever WBN would take us. Sundays would always begin with prayers to Lord Rama and Muruga, so off it would be to the Beautiful Lake Temple where we would worship the Lord. A Visit to Lake Market was always on to pick on the most fresh veggies and light, friendly conversation with the vegetable sellers. The Vegetable Sellers knew my father well and would always engage me with friendly banter with Anna, it was always a Two Way dialogue, Anna enquiring about their family and they providing us that that few extra grams of vegetables, money never being the main consideration-just pure love. There were in fact a few sellers in the market itself who could converse in fluent tamil, one of them being this Potato/Onion Seller. I used to be amazed by the fluency of conversational Tamil.

WBN would vroom around from Lake Market to Priya Cinemas where Big B would be bashing up a few baddies in his own inimitable style or donning that gun in his own Trade mark left hand style. The owners being friends of Anna would always oblige him to the Matinee show running at the theatre. In Fact there was always the extra offering, I would be taken in to the Balcony seating at Priya where I would enjoy a sneek peak into the movie, before I headed home and became a show spoiler for my sister Uma. Priya done and dusted, if I needed a hair cut, it was the friendly saloon next to Teerthapathi Institution, bang opposite Deshapriya park. I distinctly remember two things about this area, one a musical instruments shop-the smell of varnish and freshness emnating from the instruments was something I would look forward to. Next door to the Saloon was Padma Tailors where all our clothes would get stitched. Now the owner was a burly well built Malayalee gentleman who was again a good friend of my father(I can never be at even .0005% of my fathers networking skills-he almost knew everyone in Kolkata).

I would gawk on each passing tram proudly on board WBN, overtaking the slowest of vehicles would give me great thrill as a child. The last part of the trip with Anna on the way home were the most endearing ones for me as a child as WBN would make its way on Rash Behari Avenue to Southern Stores(on the turning to Vivekananda Park). I would get access to all the chocolates at this store-The Poppins and Gems were always most appealing to me, in fact the moment I walked in to the store, the owner(again a South India) would ensure that I was loaded up. 50% Delighted, the next stop over would be outside the massive Jashoda Bhavan(where we lived- the description and adventures of this place reserved for another Blog), there was a newspaper seller just outside the gates. I would wait for WBN to stop here as this was the place where I would find myself falling in love with Fantasy world and Phantom, Mandrake, Bahadur, Flash Gordon through Indrajaal comics. Indrajaal and Amar Chitra Katha lit up my imagination and love for words through pictures. 

WBN was put to rest for a few hours as I would wind my way up to our third floor palatial apartment. Running into the arms of my loving mother who would be busy with her own daily chores of puja, kitchen and cricket commentary. Sunil Gavaskar and Chetan Chauhan would be stitching a fabulous century stand somewhere down under and my mother would be lost in her own sports world, imagining the shots in a TV less word. Sibling rivalry meant I had to be a show spoiler for my sister and there was no end to our loving fights. The most delicious omlettes were always dished up by my father in some obscure corner away from the ever prying eyes of my traditional eyes of my mother for whom eggs were a strict No-No. There was never a Sunday in Kolkata without a compulsory visit to the movies, either Priya, Basusree or Menoka- for the rare English ones it used to be Lighthouse but a visit to that part of the city for another blog, another story telling session. My Sunday morning has been summed up, there is more to relate, more stories and adventures with WBN-the next one is an exciting story of WBN and Kolkata Pooleesh. Read, Comment, Wait Till I am back with my next instalment. Till Then have a Wonderful Sunday and if You are in Kolkata, blessed you are.