From the Dee......

It happened again, thought Alan. This was the third time in as many days that he seemed oblivious to the loud calls from Beth, his better half for more than four decades, to take out Dan, their three year old St Bernard, out for a walk. Alan shook his shiny bald head in dismay...He wondered if at seventy eight he was going through the same  ordeal as his friend William who was now as sane as a drunk owl. 

Giving a quick peck on the cheek to Beth, Alan decided to go out alone for a walk. Dan will be taken care of by Beth, he knew that. Sometimes he wondered what drove his wife every day to carry out each task with clock like precision. He thought of the sleepless night that Beth spent with Roma, their first born, when she prepared for her examinations and Beth hovered around making her daughter comfortable - right from the perfect cup of coffee to adjusting the study lamp...When Winnie decided to get married to that French actor against her doting father's wishes, it was Beth who played the peacemaker.  Alan found himself wondering about his favourite younger daughter Winnie who had drifted apart from everyone after losing her husband in a car mishap a couple of years back.

Alan steered towards the impeccably maintained park near the newly opened hyper market. The park has become a favourite place for him to spend a few moments with himself these days. 

Yes, hidden from Beth, unknown to Roma and stealthily from Winnie, Alan has been wondering a lot about his childhood these days. It was time for the finale, the curtain call. Alan wondered if he would ever be able to see his place of birth before he closed his eyes forever...The place which he left behind more than fifty years back, almost a lifetime back..

It must be twilight in his village now. It must have been a hot day...His brother Parama had mentioned about buying an inverter with the money that Alan had sent him a few weeks back. Yes, he was glad that he could offer something to Parama, his little darling brother...Smoke from the earthen sula in the cosy kitchen must be winding its way up, finding its way to the sky above. Parama worked hard in the fields. He has always been the more sincere one. The harvested and sacked paddy will be taken to the town sometime around next week, Parama had said. Hopefully there will be a profit this year.

Alan's reverie was broken by the sudden laughter of the two elderly ladies who were regular joggers in the park. They look worn out, like they’ve been walking for a while.  They walk along, talking to each other and laughing. His mind flew to the youngest daughter of Lakhi Sir, Mala. Yes, Mala had been beautiful. Now resting in the village’s dilapidated (and, as he always believed, haunted!) cremation ground near the river, Mala had once been the cynosure of every young lad’s eyes in Lahingia, the sleepy village of his childhood in Sivasagar. Yes, it has been quite a journey, Alan mused, from the Dikhow to the Dee; from the Mala's oiled, long, thick braid to the flowing brunette locks of Beth, from the smell of first rain of the season to the fragrance of cognac…

As a twenty something young man, Alan had planned to follow his father’s footsteps and till the fields. Or rather, Alok Baruah of Lahingia village had. But his life has been as unpredictable as the weather of North Wales, which has been his home for decades now. He lived in this town his whole life, and now that he’s getting older, the younger people are taking over. But he still carries on, to  help Beth in the confectionery shop which she set up five years back, to play with the toddlers in the neighborhood and visit the museums which he could never do while being professionally active.

Alan sighed heavily and made a decision. He will tell Beth about it tonight, during dinner. He knew that Beth couldn’t appreciate Lahingia when they went there together around twenty five years back; he will make a solo trip for a month or so. October seemed to be a good time to visit. The atheist in him suddenly wished to sleep awhile, and he craved to feel the feeling of being a part of sarbojanin Durga puja.  Maybe he will be able to catch up with his buddies Jogen and Nitai too in the puja mandap -  there was not much time left before they said their final good byes...A bright speck from a hazy sequence in his memory lane brushed through his misty eyes, making him raise questions, and propelling him towards a route from the Dee to the Dikhow…..