Some memories
Things seem to be bit lethargic inthe last few days. Are you all gearing up for the Durga Puja? With the Puja just round the corner, I think most of us back home in Assam must be busy with shopping and holiday plans. As far as yours truly is concerned, I will have to be content with the colorful Puja celebrations at CR Park and also in our society. Deva will not be able to come to Delhi during the
festival time but the boys and I plan to have a good time.
My earliest memories of the Durga Puja in Lahoal is of the long trip from Goalpara to Lahoal in our Ambassador with or without any stoppage in between. At times, Jumu and I would sleep soundly on the backseat (with Rimu in Ma’s lap) and with Bhupen Hazarika crooning his famous numbers we would travel and travel. It was like homecoming after a long stay somewhere else.
And guess what? Deta made us read the signboards of the roadside shops and also the number plates of the vehicles plying in front of our Ambassador! And now also, when I see a car’s number plate, do you know what I do? I make up the smallest and the greatest numbers in my mind with the digits of the number plate (e.g, if the number is 3442, the smallest number will be 2344 and the greatest will be 4432!). I think this eccentric trait will persist all my life. I just cannot get rid of it (or is it that I do not really want to ?).
The moment we reached Lahoal, the atmosphere would be electric! It was a pleasant rhapsody of life’s chords and tunes and songs, and we would all forget everything to make the most of the few days of stay. With so many people around, our parents would also forget to reprimand us for our pranks.
The trips to the pandals of Dibrugarh, Tinsukia and Bokel T.E. remains fresh in my memory. With the water balloons, pistols, and ‘pokuwa kharus’, our days were filled with fun and the nights were lazy moments of counting the glow worms, listening to the whistle of the trains that pierced through the stillness of the darkness. I remember once , while watching the ‘boli’ (animal sacrifice) of a huge off-white goat in Bokel I fainted and fell into the warm arms of Binu Borbow! That was my first and the last experience of watching a ‘boli’ live.
Yes, those were the days. The grown up boys were busy with their game of cards, and the ladies were holed up in the kitchen with loads of food to be cooked for the army that needed food on time. Now when I sit and think back, I find myself amazed at the stamina of the ladies of those days who went about doing their chores with smiles on their lips. Arranging for a proper meal for 30-40 odd people on my son’s birthday makes me see red, not to speak about the fatigue that sets in after the party. But our mothers and aunts were indeed superwomen in their times to have managed everything so smoothly without complaining.
Once lice infested my hair. This prompted Aita (Late Snehlata Chakravarty) to write a long epistle to Ma telling her how my hair needs to be kept clean! She was so upset to see the healthy lice sucking up blood from my scalp. That day till date, I am proud to say that I have managed to remain ‘lice-free’, sans a brief period when a few of those little black monsters managed to find way to may head a few years back.
Talking about Aita, she had two small boxes of sandalwood. They were given to her by Arun Bortta; he had brought them from Shimla where he was posted during his tenure in the army. One day I told Aita, ” When you die, please give one of these boxes to me.” After Aita’s death, Kanu Bortta really gave me one of those. I treasure that box till date where I keep all my gold earrings, and the musky smell of sandalwood reminds me of Aita every time I open the box.
Yes, those were the days and there will be days too. But like some incurable condition, the memories have seeped inside me for good. I cherish those days, and I know that there will be many more days like those in the years to come. Let us all plan a reunion, just like the good old carefree days. Let us forget what we all are today for a few days and let our hair down (lice free, of course!). Lets travel back in time; may be next year will be good, may be the year next…………
My earliest memories of the Durga Puja in Lahoal is of the long trip from Goalpara to Lahoal in our Ambassador with or without any stoppage in between. At times, Jumu and I would sleep soundly on the backseat (with Rimu in Ma’s lap) and with Bhupen Hazarika crooning his famous numbers we would travel and travel. It was like homecoming after a long stay somewhere else.
And guess what? Deta made us read the signboards of the roadside shops and also the number plates of the vehicles plying in front of our Ambassador! And now also, when I see a car’s number plate, do you know what I do? I make up the smallest and the greatest numbers in my mind with the digits of the number plate (e.g, if the number is 3442, the smallest number will be 2344 and the greatest will be 4432!). I think this eccentric trait will persist all my life. I just cannot get rid of it (or is it that I do not really want to ?).
The moment we reached Lahoal, the atmosphere would be electric! It was a pleasant rhapsody of life’s chords and tunes and songs, and we would all forget everything to make the most of the few days of stay. With so many people around, our parents would also forget to reprimand us for our pranks.
The trips to the pandals of Dibrugarh, Tinsukia and Bokel T.E. remains fresh in my memory. With the water balloons, pistols, and ‘pokuwa kharus’, our days were filled with fun and the nights were lazy moments of counting the glow worms, listening to the whistle of the trains that pierced through the stillness of the darkness. I remember once , while watching the ‘boli’ (animal sacrifice) of a huge off-white goat in Bokel I fainted and fell into the warm arms of Binu Borbow! That was my first and the last experience of watching a ‘boli’ live.
Yes, those were the days. The grown up boys were busy with their game of cards, and the ladies were holed up in the kitchen with loads of food to be cooked for the army that needed food on time. Now when I sit and think back, I find myself amazed at the stamina of the ladies of those days who went about doing their chores with smiles on their lips. Arranging for a proper meal for 30-40 odd people on my son’s birthday makes me see red, not to speak about the fatigue that sets in after the party. But our mothers and aunts were indeed superwomen in their times to have managed everything so smoothly without complaining.
Once lice infested my hair. This prompted Aita (Late Snehlata Chakravarty) to write a long epistle to Ma telling her how my hair needs to be kept clean! She was so upset to see the healthy lice sucking up blood from my scalp. That day till date, I am proud to say that I have managed to remain ‘lice-free’, sans a brief period when a few of those little black monsters managed to find way to may head a few years back.
Talking about Aita, she had two small boxes of sandalwood. They were given to her by Arun Bortta; he had brought them from Shimla where he was posted during his tenure in the army. One day I told Aita, ” When you die, please give one of these boxes to me.” After Aita’s death, Kanu Bortta really gave me one of those. I treasure that box till date where I keep all my gold earrings, and the musky smell of sandalwood reminds me of Aita every time I open the box.
Yes, those were the days and there will be days too. But like some incurable condition, the memories have seeped inside me for good. I cherish those days, and I know that there will be many more days like those in the years to come. Let us all plan a reunion, just like the good old carefree days. Let us forget what we all are today for a few days and let our hair down (lice free, of course!). Lets travel back in time; may be next year will be good, may be the year next…………
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