Pre-Marital Discussions

My wife had gone off to the parlour. I was sitting alone at a café located in the next door shopping arcade nursing a long cool drink (of the non-alcoholic kind), thinking of the great tragedy of my life , namely why my wife (and girlfriend of years) should choose the beauty parlour over my company on a Friday evening. Add to it the potential attack on my already stretched finances and you get the general drift of my thoughts at that moment.

After about an hour of applying salves of self-pity on the unseen wounds to my ego and I had relaxed enough to look around at the general beauty offered by a modern shopping arcade, the lights went out. This being Kolkata, the back-up power system refused to start instantaneously. There was a lull and all activity ceased abruptly. In the shadows created by pale emergency lights, the entire shopping area looked strange as everyone stopped mid-step in whatever they were doing. It looked like a giant toy shop where all toys had stopped working together as the plug was pulled off the main switch.

AND there was silence—well, almost.

In that silence my ears picked up a snatch of murmurings—low and continuous. Having nothing else to do in the dark I strained to listen, uninvited.

The conversation was intense. A couple was talking. But ‘talking’ was hardly the word. The couple was measuring each other. Words were flowing from one to the other as each was sizing up the other. Words were being used like a rapier – thrust, probe, parry, feint --- all aspects of a skilful sword fight were in action; except that the sword had been replaced by words. It was a treat to listen to them. It was evident that they were educated, confident and fairly successful individual with varied interests and depths of thought. On and forth, the discussion continued till each one exposed a little bit him/her and each knew a bit more about the other.

Suddenly, the gensets were coaxed into life and the lights came on stunning all of us for a second time.

As I got my eyes used to this light, I turned my head to have a glance at the couple. I saw a young boy and a girl sitting facing each other. I guessed that they were probably out on a first/second date or maybe they were under the modern process of pre-marital arranged marriage interactions where the prospective bride and groom would meet in a neutral territory alone to get introduced to each other.

My glass was empty and the lights had broken the spell. I left my chair and thought that if my wife had subjected me to such brilliant scrutiny pre-marriage, I would have chickened out.

These people were more intelligent and pragmatic but I would always prefer my rather unconditional trusting wife, the unending , finance draining trips to the beauty parlour notwithstanding.

Oh Kolkata!

Initially, I brushed off the information as trivial as it was a regular affair in Kolkata. In fact, it’s a miracle that such things don’t happen everyday. After all , the old buildings of the city are actually  potential tinderboxes with low maintenance, web of illegal electrical wiring hanging about like a giant spider web, steep wooden staircases, ancient lifts and illegally tenanted over ten times the normal acceptable limit.

Then fire got its revenge. The small (?) flicker turned into an inferno. As I watched aghast and in awe, television screens showed people jumping off the fourth and fifth floors.  The fire-fighters at that time were grossly outnumbered and ill-equipped.

Then came the realisation and the tears. People were dying. The fire brigade finally arrived with its might after an hour or so. The hydraulic lifts went into service, some people rescued and the fire, presumably, brought under control.

More than 5 hours had passed. Politicians came and mouthed allegations against each other. The iconic Flurys and Peter Cat possibly escaped with minor damages. But, so many lives were lost. So many people are still in hospital.

This is the third big fire in the last two years. Each time there are blame games and claims of starting a Disaster Management Group. Nothing happens. In the last two occasions, thankfully no lives were lost. But this time people died.

What more do the authorities need to act? Why don’t the politicians drop their posing and work, for a change? Why can’t we all be goaded out of our somnolent nonchalance? How much price we need to pay to be pushed into doing constructive work?

When shall we all wake up?

REGENT GRACE

‘Cholae Aasun. Kono problem hobae na. Shobai besh milae mishey thakbo’, said the person with honest, friendly eyes from the doorstep. Roughly translated it means’ Come over and stay with us. There won’t be any problems and we would have a good time together’.

We were looking for a rented accommodation; my third rented house in Kolkata after being told by my previous landlord that I would have to vacate my present place of stay. After the usual running about with the brokers, we got a link to one apartment through the internet.

It was on Sunday afternoon that my father and I had gone to have a look at the same. We liked the housing complex but we were on two minds whether to freeze our choice then and there. As we were discussing about the car parking space (which the landlord did not have), the same friendly gentleman popped out of nowhere and offered me his space with this invitation.

There was something in his voice and demeanour which was warm and personal. We decided on the flat then and there.

It was my start of a great friendship with Ratanda; a man with a heart bigger than Howrah Bridge!

We shifted a couple of days before the Durga Puja and on the day of the puja, a strange thing happened. A familiar face from the memory emerged and after a lot of brainstorming and digging back into the hard disc of the mind, I found back my college mate Jayanta. And just imagine, he was married to Sarbari, another college mate of mine. Suddenly, the new apartment was something familiar and I started feeling a home. The rekindled friendship developed and blossomed everyday till we were all part of one big ‘soul group’.

Days passed and my new family grew. Gouri(wife of Ratanda) became buddies with my wife sharing titbits about shopping, cooking, dresses, handsome hunks and what not! Her cooking skills made her apartment our favourite party joint and together they really made my aged parents feel comfortable.

There was the elegant Sharmishta, educated and suave (without whose help my passport wouldn’t possibly have been done within 48 hours); there were her parents whose company made my parents fill up their friends list; there was Indrajit and Pinki, the young couple adding a zing to the forties team; there was Nirmalda and Boudi , planning innumerable short trips to picnic spots which remain etched in memory ; there was Sajal and Anindita , the multitalented couple ; there was Debasish and Debolina, the couple personifying bravery and above all there was a  bunch of lovely, energetic, warm and fabulously talented kids Raja, Kuchi, Titli, Mitul and Neha, who made the life at Regent Grace such beautiful and fulfilling. My parents doted on them.

Yes Regent Grace!!!!

Two and half years passed like a dream. There was fun , games, picnics, Durga and Saraswati pujas, Holi and Diwali, daily addas and parties (planned and impromptu) and there was a zest for the daily life. There were thorns too! Awkward moments and unpleasant incidences! But the thrill and laughter trod upon these hiccups like an elephant in a sugarcane field.

Today, I have shifted to my own flat – located at a new place and away from Regent Grace. It’s a bigger apartment, fitted mostly to our taste and above all it’s owned by us. It’s an apartment of our dreams. The complex is bigger and probably has more amenities.

But the first week hasn’t been comfortable at all!! We are missing you all dear friends. So I never said Goodbye to you!! It’s only ‘Phir Milengey aagley party mein’ or better still ‘When is the next adda, friends? Count us in. Just remember that your Block II, Flat 2B is located just a few kilometres away.’

HAPPY NEW YEAR

It's that time of the year again!

Today evening, people would party and enjoy, as if there was no tomorrow. There would be attempts to drown old sorrows of the previous year and an effort to look up to the future year. Shining (drunk?) faces would cheer as the clock strikes twelve tonight, ushering in a new year.

But what would change when that happens? Will there really be a new tomorrow?A tomorrow of justice, honour, truth and hope?

Others I know not, but HOPE surely. That's what we live on knowing fully well that tomorrow would be just one more date in our jaded lives. But as the poet said 'Hope springs eternal....'

Personally 2009 was a great year with lots of milestones reached and the necessary putdowns. I too look forward to 2010 with HOPE that the new year would be special. A year of love, laughter, fun  and joy ;and the tears when they come would be few and far between.

And on this note I raise a toast to 2010 and  also thank all those who made my 2009 special.

Wishing all my best wishes for a great 2010.

Buying a "Home"

I have been working for an organisation which claims ‘Where homes come true’, for the last dozen years.

In the process, I must have had sold a few thousand apartments, bungalows, villas and condominiums. Every day someone would be sitting in front of me with slightly expectant, wary looks and listening to me extolling the virtues of the property I wanted then to buy. There was sooooooo much to talk about. The air funnel, the shadow line, the swimming pools, the garden for the children to play, the Vaastu compliance, the common amenities, the fittings and fixtures, ----------------.

Some were convinced and bought. Others just smiled and moved on to some other property. I shook my head whenever that happened. After all, why should they not buy after I have extolled the virtues of the property? At any point of time, I knew more about Real Estate than what they could ever dream off. Silly people! Didn’t even understand good and professional advice!
In this period I stayed in a rented apartment. All through the boom and bust of real estate I did not buy any property.

This year my family pushed me to buy an apartment for us. After all ‘it’s better to pay EMI with its tax benefits than to pay rent. After all, you build an asset in the process,’ they said. I had heard me saying that to a lot of people and it felt strange hearing it from others.

So it was decided that a house has to be bought! Pronto! And with my knowledge and experience, it was going to be a child’s play.

Four months and about 500 apartments later, I accepted defeat. I could not finalise a single apartment for buying. Some were above budget, some had defects, some were not having enough legal papers, some did not have ample choice to choose from and some were just not good enough. Many people, most of them my friends and colleagues from the industry tried to help and failed.

As I was accepting defeat and was resigning to my fate of a life in a rented accommodation, my family (parents and wife) took charge. One day they went out, saw a couple of projects and finalised on one. I was told to arrange for the finance as they liked the place. Defeated, I did as ordered.

After a couple of days, I visited the project with a lot of inhibition bracing for the worst. Yes! There was the not too good approach road, the buildings were located too close to each other, the basic workmanship was okay but the finishing could have been better, it was on the top floor and a host of other things. But since, I have paid for it , I wanted to go ahead.

Another six months and some interior developmental work later, we were ready for the Grihapravesh. As is the norm of the family, a couple of hundreds of my kindred souls and friends joined us for the puja and the lunch. All of them said kind words about the project—some out of genuine liking, some out of courtesy.

The ritual requires one to stay three nights at least in the apartment immediately after the puja. So I stayed back after all left and late at night as I reclined on the makeshift bed, I looked up and saw the moonlight filter in, creating a show in light and shade. I quietly rose from the bed, made my way to the balcony and reclined on the easy chair enjoying the soothing breeze of the early winter.

I woke up with a start when the first rays of light hit my face. I looked around and found my home.

The faults are still there, there is a lot of work to be done before I move in, and the area is still slightly undeveloped— yet from that very moment I have found my home.

These days I just mention the important virtues of the projects I am selling to prospective buyers and let them choose. After all , it’s their home they are choosing – not buying a house that I am offering to them.

A tryst with nature

The road stretched out in front, inviting and relaxing – holding a promise of an unknown oasis of relaxation.

The three cars made good ground along the Durgapur Expressway as soon as they left the city limits. The parathas and dahi at Palsit charged the batteries and we were off again. Four hours after we had left the smog filled cloudy horizon of Kolkata we turned off the asphalt road into a lovely Kaccha pathway lined by greenery in all sorts of hue.

Travelling through this road we reached a new place off the river Ajoy, where one got to rest in a cosy little cottage lined with flower beds and with peacocks as company. The city bound tired souls looked around with their jaded eyes and suddenly, the adrenaline was back flowing through them.

The result – a trek through the gardens to the banks of Ajoy which lay there in a languid curl – almost too lazy to move with a lonely boat floating by itself.

After the stroll by the riverside and a quick bath, steaming rice, delicious ‘aloo patal’ and fish curry, there

was a long lazy adda under the watchful eyes of two local dogs and a few unknown birds flying by.

The evening unfolded early with gathering clouds muscling out the sun.

The rains started with a drizzle and then this happened.

Fifteen city bred rat race toughened individuals gaped at the peacock and turned into children all over again. We walked up further and sat in the pouring rain by a place drenched in tranquillity and dreamed of what we just saw. The lovely pond with its green cover in front of us made us yearn for more.

It rained the entire night and sleep was a cosy affair dotted with the dreams of the show that nature had put up for us the entire day.

The next morning the same jaded individuals returned to the din of the city aglow with newfound jest for life.

2, Moore Avenue

It was a lovely Bungalow; nay a kothi.

The creaking gate made of ornate wrought iron engravings held together by wood was imposing. The hinges sighed reluctantly as I pushed it open and walked in. The gravel crunched under my feet and as I looked around , I could only see a jungle of weeds and non-descript trees greeting me. 

I walked further in and the gravel path took a sharp left turn and I looked at what was a momento from a hundred years back -A kothi stood out blocking my path. The entire building had elements of English Architecture married into the what looked like  Western Indian frills. The dirty looking exterior had vines and roots coming out of the walls but could not hide the alabaster marble it was made of. A few steps further down and I had reached the broken door to the building. I moved in.

A wide semi-circular verandah, fringed by dirty marble staircases which led to the upper floor, lay in front. The verandah opened upon a hall which had lovely inlay work on the walls and broken glass strewn on the floor. I took the stairs and reached another balcony at the first floor level. There were four rooms opening out from this balcony on one side and the other side looked down on the open space below.

The atmosphere was pregnant with history.

There was a half broken chair on  the verandah and I sat down on it for a moment. As I looked out , I could make out the old tennis court now covered by unkempt grass and weed, the abandoned pond on the left alongwith its semi broken ghat, the collection of shrubs at the right corner --wild and abandoned-- looking eerily like a Rose Garden and some magnificent Mango trees lined up by the pond.

I drifted into the thoughts of a possible golden past of the building when this house was possibly the pride of the owner. Then there were the days of Burra khana, nautch parties, horsedriven carriages , barbeque by the side of the pond, strolls by the Rose Garden, badminton by long gowned and gloved ladies and fun & foxtrot under arguably the biggest chandeliers of South Kolkata- or Calcutta, as I should correctly say.

My reverie was broken by the people who had taken me there for my opinion about the market feasibility of an apartment block in that plot of land.

Today , instead of the famous Kothi of Mr. Moore of Moore Avenue , South Calcutta, stands a new apartment block which, for the want of a better word , is ugly and sans character.

Sorry Mr. Moore.

Even my romantically coloured biased report did not help to protect your lovely historical Kothi and Calcutta lost a little more of its graceful history.