Saturday, May 05, 2007

I was seven-years old at the time, when love, in all its glory and fury, jumped out from behind a musty bookshelf and bonked me hard on the head.
It smelled a little like Chelpark Royal Blue ink, and also a bit like the breathless-escapades-on-steamers-during-partition-stories which dadumoni used to narrate, before he went all wrinkled and quiet. It reminded me of 7o’clock dashes to the building which is 103 A&C Ballygunge Place, and the sour taste in mouth when the milk would just not finish and the clock would just not slow down. I touched it gingerly, and it was soft. Like mamma’s cotton saree-aanchals when I would wipe my hand on them after lunch.
I talked to it. It smiled back.
It took my breath away. And I have been lost ever since.
When heartbreak happened, and loneliness happened. And people just went on pretending and wouldn’t stop, I would randomly shut myself up, and wander off.


And just sit there, in this random rajasthan fortress, besides the road in this strange kingdom far away, on the steps of this normal benares ghaat or in this half-forgotten village at the end of nowhere, until all the broken me-pieces were collected and glued back together.
And when pisemoshai just went away, (I refuse to say that he died), and everything just went freaky inside my head, I went and huddled up next to her.
And listened to her sing : "Hori din toh galo, sondhya holo, paar koro amarey..."
And cried, like I needed to.

Its been a fabulous 10 years of unwavering, intense love. And worship. And a way of life which just refuses to die.
Every single day, I am newly bonked-on-the-head, and every new facet I discover, settles itself inside, like this old and ragged quilt, which never fails to provide comfort, no matter HOW zonked I am.

Pardon my unashamed gushing. I adore, worship, love this man.

Smitten, badly, since 1995.


Bichi Bagchi said...

Isn't he a bit tall for you? MeSSomoSSai would be a better choice, me thinks. :-P Anyway, this man and his forefathers defined my childhood and mesmerizes me still. However good a sleuth may Byomkesh be, I would always prefer Felunath alongwith Jatayu's characteristic "popocatapetaputopultish". Nice post, left me craving for a copy of Sonar Kella in this godforbidden city.
Btw, what was your deepest, darkest secret again? :-D

Phemonoe said...

so am love.and badly too.

the good in me.Him.


Heathcliff Ranting... said...

Can't imagine your tine head being bonked hard... gnuto kheli shesh porjonto.

He is god, he is the ONE who has defined our childhood, was watching Apu r Shongshar the other day... he spins magic with reel and somehow has always managed to touch our real life.

Needless to say HE is one of the two REALLY HANDSOME MEN of bengal, the rest being eunachs.


haramigiri korish na... ekta secret niye etodin chatar maane hoy na.X-(

Shamash said...

okay sans the love factor....
Ray was an institution in himself.. i just cevoured all his films.. apparently i am supposed to have met him and robi ghose when i was a leetil boy.. ofcourse i dont remeber that...
but it still makes me feel good that i did however unconscious may it be

yippeeHippie said...

don't we all?? :)but for me, love happened all over again after "Rabindranath"...
so , what was your deepest darkest secret again? ;)

Double-Dolphin said...

ORAY CHHURI!!!!"Two" ta jogar holo???

#3tiYo>B_shyo> said...

well, well, look what bimbos doing when she's got eggjaams to write. but then u study literature. BAH! :(

Anonymous said...

simply because he man is satyajit ray

Srin said...

I've never been able to watch Pather Pachali because I've read the book and it's just too sad to watch.