Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The lights are dim. The curtains are pulled around her, as if to restrict others to know about the conspiracy. The husband is waiting on the other side of the curtain. She is waiting helplessly, her legs are resting helplessly on the stirrups. The same old process will be repeated, as is being repeated for the last two years. The doctor will put the manhood shaped device between her legs and the pain will begin again.

The doctor will try to relax her, saying good words of reliance, this will not be painful, soon you will be fertile, etc. while she will struggle to stay calm and quite and bear the same pain she is bearing again and again for the last two years. At last in unbearable pain and frustration she will start yelling and tears will continuously drop down her cheeks. This artificial insemination process had left bruises inside her womanhood, and everlasting bruises and wounds in her mind.

She cannot be a normal mother. Not again, after such a long period of time. She has enjoyed the motherhood after giving birth to her first child, their child, but the unwanted one. She can still recall the very night. It was raining outside. Thunderbolts were heard again and again. The power went off. The hotel generator started after four five minutes. Those very four five minutes were so precious for her. The smell of his chest where she was resting in peace for those four five minutes are unforgettable still. The warmth of his body and the width of his manly chest felt like a huge tree, under which she found the shelter for herself, for that night, for her life, for eternity. She never felt anything different in the heartbeat of that man, different from a man she could trust. The heartbeats never said the untold words of the man to her ears, not to trust him, not to let her become a mother, an unwanted mother.

It was again after those nine months uncertain life, she became the single mother of the girl. She named her on their names,Ebha, though, he was no more with her. He left. As an invader he had stolen the precious purity of the un-smelt flower, the untouched body of the holy earthen icon of trust and felt the pure love of the girl of twenty. He had ravaged her time and again knowingly though she never knew, until he left with the stolen wealth with him, leaving her poorer than the poorest, living on others mercies with the unwanted child.

Life could not pass by in this way. As her parents and relatives were searching for a suitable match after all these happened to her, she needed to break free. Free and independent in her life, to start enjoying her life again. A new life, a family, a small shelter of trust that she really needed.

She opposed a lot. Her family, her neighbors, her elders, no one was with her when she started living with the girl child of her, her own child, a piece of soul emerged from herself. Yet again, she became helpless. Everybody wanted her to be independent. Independence came to her for the price of leaving the child of three months, in front of the cage of the Baboons in the zoo. That too, on 15th of August, the independence day.

Still she was determined. Determined to live her life like any other average Indian woman, with her husband in their new family. She tried her best to become a good wife heading the family towards prosperity and wealth, though inside her, she kenw, she was not well. While grief and deep sighs became her best friends in solitaire, the family members of the in-laws became her worst enemies. Not that they didn't like her, but they wanted something out from her. Not giving any importance to her beauty and brains, like a child production mechanism, as treated by numerous families in the world, she was being treated by the in-laws as someone, who lacks something in that production mechanism. They tried to get a child again, a legal heir of their son, their brother, their beloved one. They persuaded him, her husband, to understand the importance of having their own child. The child who will bring the family the desired pleasure and security in future, being more important than the aging woman the mother is. The husband became so convinced after this long pursuance that he is now ready to extreme extent to get the child out of her, for the child will be his own child, his future.

Finally she is here lying helplessly on the stirrups, while the husband, waiting for the terrorizing doctor to put the semen artificially in her to get a child from her, so that he can take the child away and claim the child to be his, not her's. Time and again the husband and the doctors are trying but she is resisting this to happen, and will continue resisting.

Hat's off to her, she is like the Mother India. She is great.

Entry for Mera Bharat Mahaan contest by BlogAdda Sponsored by


The Left Winger

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The whole crowd is roaring now again in the expectation of an equalizer. Some are blowing their Horns, a slightly modified version of the renowned Vuvuzela. Sweat is running down his body, his forehead. He is running fanatically towards the opponents penalty box along the left wing. A good center can create a real good chance to score as two strikers of his team is also accompanying him in this counter attack.

The day before this finals of the renowned "Gostha Pal Memorial Tournament" was not a very smooth evening for him. He was resting after the last practice match with some of the team members when Shibu Bhowmik, the team manger call for him. With a gaping smile he entered into the chamber of the team manager. Their coach Anata Roy was sitting beside the manager. Shibu Bhaowmik started the discussion.

"You are not playing in tomorrows match. We have someone in your place.You know Kaushik, who plays for 'Tallygaunge Agragami'? He is going to be the left winger this time."

Manojit was dumbstruck at this. He was so shocked, that he could not say a single word. With a blank face, he looked at the team coach. He is one of the most successful players in the team, who contributed significantly so that team has finally reached the finals, and now he is not going to play. He could not believe his ears. A fear is gripping him on his throat, choking it so badly that he cannot breath.

This time, like every time, renowned star players and coaches of "Division A" clubs of Kolkata will keep an eye on the players from the finals. "Gostha Pal Memorial Tournament" is actually the chance for many budding struggling players to reach to their destined fortune of better and more secured lives as footballers. Most of the footballers dream is to become a regular player of the "Division A" clubs in Kolkata, so that they may secure some Government job and at least feed their family well. Very few of them really dream of being a great footballer some day.

Actually, the budding skilled footballers are mostly from the middle economy class or lower economy class families, who struggle everyday in every walks of lives to reach the playground from different corners of Kolkata and suburbs. To reach to their dreams to become a good footballer some day with a better standard of living. Most of them loose the battle to poverty and financial scarcity and leave football to earn the bread for the family. Many of them loose for the lack of enough nutritious food at home and eventually being too weak to fight this battle of energy and power. Many of them get addicted to different addictions like smoking or chewing tobacco and finally looses their carrier as footballers, while many of them become scapegoats of the team as they are replaced with "renowned" hired players from better teams.

"See Manojit, we cannot take chances. We are playing on 4-2-4 and want to break the defense from the left side of the opponent. We have replaced not only you but also replaced the two center forwards. It's wining, that matters now, isn't it?" Anata Roy, their coach added.

Manojit stared at him with a blank face again. He still cannot believe what is happening right now. Ananta Da (Elder brother), the same Ananta, who used to motivate him the most is saying such words. The same Ananta Da, who started to feed him with the two eggs daily which Manojit could not afford from his family of two brothers and one sister powered by his mother's widower pension of 3000 INR (60 $ almost) and his own earning of around 600 INR (12 $ almost) a month as an electrician.

Manojit's eye's became smokey. He still couldn't utter a single word, for he understood, there is no point in arguing, no point in asking question. With the left out energy he lifted himself from the chair and headed towards the exit.

"But, you will be playing as an extra tomorrow and we need your best".

The last words of Ananta sounded much like a solace rather than assurance.

Manojit came out of the club and went back to the other team members.When Manojit told them that he is going to be one extra player tomorrow, there was mixed reaction from them.

"At least you are not out of the team. You may get a chance sometime", some of his team members tried to encourage him. While some of them, being more frustrated after thrown out of the team totally for the finals were a bit relieved hearing what happened to Manojit. "We are the steps of the stairs, you know. We have brought the team to the finals now, so we are no more required." they said.

Manojit is around twenty two. If this time he misses the chance to prove himself in the team, he is going to loose the chance to be in a "Division A" team for ever. Manojit got really nervous.

Finally Ananta Da was free. He called Manojit.

"I have nothing to do. I am really helpless. Shibu Da is our employer, your, mine. I cannot go beyond his orders. Still, I know if you get a chance, you can prove yourself. Stay ready."

Manojit remained speechless.


In the first half both the teams attempted to score but they were fruitless attempts. At the beginning of the second half the opponent opened a chance and scored, mostly because of a fault from the new defender hired from some good team.

Around ten minutes later, their team got a chance to score. The new left winger Kaushik, did a nice center and receiving the ball by the right leg the new center forward tried a shot with his left. The goal keeper saved the goal just in time.

There is only thirty minutes left to the game, when there is a serious foul by one of the defenders of the opponent team. Kaushik, the left winger became seriously injured. An yellow card was shown and Kaushik had to be taken out of the field.

"Fight the battle now, it is your chance." Ananta patted on Maojit's shoulder. "Fight it out."

Manojit got the most desired chance of his life. May it be a little late still better than never. In the rest thirty minutes, he can have a good chance to prove himself.

Opponent team is better enough to keep the ball control to them most of the time and this time the whole opponent team is creating a strong pressure on their half. A sudden pass from one of the defenders of their team and Manojit started the counter attack. He started running fanatically with the ball along the left wing. Two of the forwards of his team understood that this could be the best possible time for the equalizer. They started to run towards the opponents goal too. But the defenders of the opponent team are very good. They are also regular "A" division players. One of them caught up Manojit and tried the same old trick of sliding tackle pointing to Manojit's leg.

Manojit, knew that this is going to happen. He jumped over the defender's leg avoiding the rough tackle. People around are roaring in expectation. The goalkeeper has taken position at the left side bar of the goal to narrow the angle, he is running forward to narrow the angle farther for Manojit. But, Manojit just passed the ball with a clean center towards the right forward of their team and goal, this is the equalizer.


Now only five minutes to the extra time. Both team are at one goal each. Manojit again is running for the ball. He just received it . He is running again towards the opponents goal. Just crossed the mid field. Three of the defenders are running towards him. This time they will not miss Manojit, and Manojit doesn't stand a chance to escape. The right winger is running to in the line and the two center forwards are inside the penalty box area. The whole opponent team defense is present near the penalty box to stop them to score.

"When you can see the way to the goal posts and the goal keeper is not on the line of your vision, try to shoot, you may score." Ananta Da told him some day. In practice matches Manojit tried this twice, and once he even succeeded. "If you think this is the last chance, then take the chance yourself." He recalled another line of Anata Da, he recalled some excellent goals scored in the world cup by "Diego FORLAN" of Uruguay, one of his favorite players.

He can see the net of the goal post now. The three defenders are now closing in, and though he cannot beat them, he can view the open net of the goal post over their shoulders. The goal keeper is not on the line. Manojit also can hear a voice shouting over the prolonged roar of the people. He can hear Anata calling for him.

"Maar Mano Maar". (Shoot now Manojit, shoot.)

No second thought came in his mind, picking the ball with the right leg, he made a volley it towards the goal with his left foot.

As if the time got stopped, the three defenders approaching him have stopped and the other players are looking at the ball. The goal keeper at the right bar post is watching helplessly while the ball, like a cannon-ball entered into the net.


Still Loving You

Monday, June 14, 2010

I am walking towards that door, the very door I like to walk on this very night. The streets are half lit in gloomy shadowed lights coming down from the palatial high rise buildings, built centuries back. The ghosts are everywhere around me, some are whispering in my ears to taste the forbidden fruits infested with insects from hell. The blue dark shadowed windows of the palaces are hiding the courteous female spirits while the ghosts are inviting me towards the unresisting, obscene, formidable sins that head to the point of no return. The streets are smelling that of sweat, blood and melting meat loafs from the rotten mortals who are turning into or turned into ghosts. Being a human being in this ghost infested hell is tough, really tough, if not impossible.

I entered through the door, climbed down the circular staircase towards hell. This hell is beautifully decorated with glistening glasses and mirrors that reflect the misshapen faces of the ghosts. The reddish light coming from the ovens , where some more spirits are being burnt and baked into deliciousness, and bottles full of blood and gold and venom are being served to all. The lady spirits are dancing with their counterparts in a recklessness and the loud music in this dim lit smoky air will certainly make you half dizzy, half psychic, half ghost, if you are still alive.

I took a corner seat reserved for me, being a well known ghost to the king of this hell, I am here to enjoy my night with the spirits I like. I opted for a golden spirit, in a hourglass shaped glass. I want to burn myself in these ovens, just like to be fried into delicacy, into immortal pleasure of dying. I unloaded the whole drink from the glass in my throat. The spirit tried to ravage my throat with it's immense hatred towards the mortals but with pleasant sooth ness to this dead throat of mine. I am feeling better now, hinted towards the ghost to pour me the spirit time and again.

The music died down, the female spirit, who was hinting towards me to taste some of her surprises lost her patience and left slowly. The ghost, that was serving me has also become tired of me. He has put the whole bottle of spirit in front of me, just to help myself towards my end. I am eagerly trying to meet my end either to finish this immortal cursed life to oblivion, to meet you in the next life, my love, my first crush.

Even now I can see your smiling face in front of me, sitting just beside me , dressed in the same white school dress, holding my hand, to help me get up on my wasted feet and head towards the circular staircase of this hell, through the darkness to dawn. You have become someone else's, but I haven't lost you, specially on this very day of your marriage anniversary. The stabbing pain in my heart cannot steal my sweet memories of you. The ugliest thoughts I can think about you, cannot turn me jealous towards the lucky man, whom I have lost you, as you have chosen that destiny. You are the angel of my life, saving me through each of the unforgiving blows from life, until death. Your sweet voice heard, is always murmuring in my ears to save me from all the evils. Your best wishes on the torn letters written long back, are still lying with me, to guide me through every hell on earth, towards heaven. For, I am still loving you.

*** Entry for


BlogAdda "who dunnit" Mystery contest

Sunday, May 16, 2010

With reference to the BlogAdda WhoDunnit Mystery contest at (

I continued to think, just like Hercule Poirot may have thought in this situation. I started arranging the clues together. Slowly something started oozing up from my mind.

Both were looking the same, with their identical white outfits. No one can tell who was who other than the bullet-pendant Lila was wearing.

Of course the mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom shows, the bead necklace was hurriedly pulled off from her neck. But, I haven't seen her wearing that all the time, rather Sia was wearing the bead necklace.
The mangled arm-band must have been removed in hurry.
And the open bejeweled case is where I got stuck for sometime, must be something precious, very precious for her. May be the pendant with the bullet or the arm-band.
The cup of tea she offered me was kept beside the bed on a stool just on the way to the bathroom, beside the only chair I sat.

I have started perspiring I can figure out something, something so terribly frightening, I am loosing my breath.

The crumpled scarf beneath the pillow is the weapon of murder. It must had been soaked with liquid HCN that killed Sia, the identical twin sister of Lila.

Lila had put the scarf on her face. She started struggling, the arm-band fell down, mangled. I can still recall when I have last saw Lila, she was not wearing the band.

Sia struggled towards the bed, on the way must have knocked down the cup.

Then Lila must have kept the scarf under the pillow, and reached for the bejeweled case of the cabinet to get the band. She took out the bead necklace and put her bullet pendant on the then dead Sia's neck, for that is how we could have recognized Lila.

But why had she needed to open the case? Oh, must be the identical band Sia was wearing that night. And of course the other bullet necklace.

My heart is pounding faster than ever, Lila is not murdered. She cannot be killed. When Sia came out of the room, it was actually Lila.

She went off and came back through the back door and entered the bathroom. Hurried to take out the bead necklace from her neck, but unfortunately it was torn. That's why the
stray mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom.

Then she came out of the room again as herself wearing the second necklace, but after committing such a task
she looked withdrawn and anxious.

The ancestral property of more than a hundred crore will totally be her now, in a new facade of Sia. Now she can do the extremely costly required treatment of the "virus" (and it's curable now) and also live a rather happy life Sia lived.

I need to tell it to the police and others, immediately.


Bachhor Suru (The New Year)

Monday, April 26, 2010

Though it is a separate story, it is actually the sequel of my previous post, so, would recommend readers to read that first! Thanks!
Being the morning of the Bengali New Year, the shopkeepers will have to go to their nearest temple to get their new budget book marked with holy signs written on them. This is the special day for the shop keepers to start a new year according to the Bengali ritual "Haal Khata", the beginning of the financial year. On this very day, there is a puja of God Ganesha and Goddess Laxmi, for the betterment of one's business and the shopkeepers generally arrange a treat of sweets and beverages for their regular customers, specially for those, who pay back the debt's on this very day. They also presents the customers with a new Calendar of the Bengali year.

Malati works as a housemaid in the homes of such two shopkeepers. So, she had to leave early today, even before her husband Sajal and their daughter Sunita woke up. When she was about to leave, Sunita got up and sat beside her. She was going to say something but Malati put a finger on her lips to keep Sunita remain silent. She hurriedly instructed something to Sunita, her six year old daughter and headed towards the door of their one roomed shanty.

It's his dream place. Just as his wife dreamt for days. They have a small hut near the big pond of their's. The pond reflects the trees around it, mainly his favorite mango trees and jack fruit trees, also the coconut trees they have planted. Green mangoes are hanging from the mango tree while dark green young jack fruits are hanging down the jack fruit tree, here and there. He is sitting beside the pond with a fishing rod in his hand. The fishing rod has no wheel. He can see a far and wide distance from here. A vision too far towards the horizon where the river has moved lazily touching their village on her go. A fresh breeze oozing up from the heart of the river flowing through the green paddy filled fields towards their sweet home, soothing him to the deepest corner of his heart. Sunita, their only daughter is sitting beside him for a long time, waiting for a fish to gulp the bait and to get the fish hunting live. She lost her patience, came near to him. Put her small soft hand on his forehead. He cannot control himself, he is feeling dizzy and suddenly the there is a pull on the fishing rod. He hurried to pull it, but it's too late, too late to catch it, it's gone.

Sunita is very happy today as she received a very unexpected frock for her new year's day from her father. The frock looked nice in her eyes. It has a white body with blue stars inscribed in it, and the skirt is glistening with blue lace ribbons. She is so overwhelmed with joy that she started brushing his father's hair softly with her small soft hand, which she never does, for she fears her father, even if he is sleeping.

Sajal woke up. This is not a normal phenomenon. He never dreams, specially this kind of a sweet dream, and of course he is a bit astonished to find Sunita sitting beside him. He felt overjoyed, the day, he recalled is the first day of the Bengali year, the Naba Barsha (New year). He also recalled that he is on leave today. He slowly got up in a half sitting condition.

Looking at her beautiful dreamy eyes and her skinny structure in the old yellow colored white patched frock, and her velvety black curly hair bunched up over her head in a pony tail, he smiled to himself. No, she is not much different from the dream of his, only, she was wearing a nice dazzling white colored frock, with blue stars inscribed in it, just like the one he has bought for her last night.

"Ki vabcho?" (What are you thinking?") She asked.
"Nothing? Where is your mother?"
"She is out to work. Oho! I forgot. She has told me to give you the glass of water she kept for you, immediately after you get up." Like a scared rabbit she ran towards the kitchen of their one roomed shanty.
Malati is right, Sunita is growing up, really fast.
"Now take this papa", Sunita said bringing a glass of water towards him.

Sajal took the glass from her hand and started drinking the water. This is water with lemon juice. Just the best one can afford to get out of the hang over for last night's drinking.

"Baba eta kine enecho? Eta amar? Tumi enecho?" ("Dad, you have bought that for me? You have bought?") The young lady asked him. She could not belive her eyes. All the good thing she has been offered in her life is from her mother and when ever she wanted to be a bit closer to her father, her mother opposed. She has a developed impression in this young age of seven that, her father is of no good.

"Yes dear. This is for you. Do you like this?"
"Yes. It's so cute", she answered. And then tried to say something but controlled herself.
Sajal noticed that.
"Are you trying to say something more?" He enquired.
"No, no, nothing!" Sunita hurried towards the kitchen again.
"Don't go dear, tell me what's wrong." He said.

Sunita came back in an alarmed face. He fears her father. Her drunken father, who, sometimes, beats her mother. Her mother weeps! Her mother get bruises on her back, arms, sometimes on her cheek. He generally comes back home at a time when she is asleep. He never teaches her when she is studying. He never takes them away from this place, as some of the fathers of her friends in school do. He rarely caress her or kisses her. But still, with her small weakened heart of six years, with the least developed human brain to take up all the complexities of this cruel world, with the best possible courage she can gather in herself, she asked her father the questions that goes on and on, in her mind all the time.

"Papa, why do you beat my mother? Why don't you come back early? Why do you drink?"
And then, suddenly realizing the consequences of her inquisitiveness, she uttered.
"Please papa, don't beat me. I am too small to bear that! Please don't hurt me. I won't ask you such questions anymore."

Sajal is shocked. He just couldn't believe his ears, neither could believe his eyes. The little child, whom he thought, he loved more than anything in this whole world is actually scared off him. His frustration has become endless and all his frustration about losing jobs, not getting proper jobs, loosing his ancestral properties to his relatives, loosing the faith in his wife, loosing the self confidence of getting out of this hell ever, seemed much smaller than this one. The little lady, who has come to their world to enlighten their lives with fresh hope and zeal to live again, for a real good cause. The little one with whom he was happy for so many days when he took her home, spent nights after night sleeplessly to bring her up, fears her? Hates her? He just could not take it any more. Though Sunita struggled to get away from him, he grabbed her, embraced her, put her near to his heart.

"No dear. No. Please don't misunderstand me. Your papa is not that bad, papa will teach you. Papa will not beat mom and will leave drinking. Papa will take you away to the village of mom's dream. I shall never beat you my dear. Please forgive me."

Tears started rolling from both the father's and daughter's eyes, as if cleansing the stain from their long stained relationship.

The new day of the year for them has been a different one but may be their unfulfilled dreams be fulfilled if he can keep his promises for his family. Who knows?


Bachor Sesh (End of the year)

Sunday, April 18, 2010

It is late at night. No passers by can be seen on the alley and the lying street dogs are the only witness. He is drunk today. He is getting back home a little late. As late as he could. Almost running though the half-dark alley towards their home. It's not a home for him. Rather the house made with the semi masonry structure, the tin roof and a small veranda with the only room they have can better be called a shanty.

He has got his salary as the security guard at a nearby residential flat just two days back. He has even bought a new frock for their daughter, Sunita, today. Today was the ending of the stock clearance reduction sale going on in the preparation of the Bengali new year, the Naba Barsha. He actually love to be with his family. He starts every day with a very cool mind, but whenever his friends mention that when he is not around for some days, Malati, his wife, sales herself, he cannot stay away from boozing. If it would have happened so that he can prove something against Malati, he could have been happy. That makes him more maddened more frustrated, and in place of keeping trust on Malati, he always tries to find out a way, to catch her red handed.

Even today before he boozed, he planned to purchase something for Malati. And suddenly came the thought of Malati waiting for her customer, as the girls near the Kalighat bridge (a nearby red light area) do, he rejected that thought. He felt a sudden urge to drink again. "Khanki Saali (Bitch), the day I catch you read handed, I shall murder you.", he thought.

Malati works at the nearby residential flats. She is the main earning member of their family. Sajal was never ever a good and honest man in his life. He has lost many jobs and has started a fresh from the beginning of a new job sometimes after returning from his short terms in jail. Most of the time he was punished in petty cases of drinking and gambling. Malati being at the age of twenty seven and mother of their single child, still looks young and good looking. Younger than many other slum dwellers of her age, and good looking because she maintains her looks. She always heard from her relatives that she was actually from a good family around two generations back. Fleeing from Bangladesh, staying in this slum for twenty years has taught her a lot to accommodate herself against all odds of this life. She nowadays earn much more than Sajal, and tries to drive her family in a best possible manner she can. She sends their daughter to school, even planning to teach her dancing and wants to settle down at a far village from this city full of ominous poisonous people she regularly faces.

Other than her income as a cook and housemaid in different families of the nearby flats, she could have started some secret works parallel. Many of the house maids leaving by them have started these earning though some crooked manner. Malati even was approached by some of them. She always has stayed more arrogant more tough in her mind to fight out these odds. She cannot sale herself in that way to a customer, who will like to purchase her body for his carnal pleasures for some hours. The more she thought about that the more her dreams of staying with their daughter in a village house budded in her mind. In a far away place from Kolkata, where her known relatives live. A village as shown in the Bengali movies, she watches. She and her daughter, and Sajal. Well, if he insists, Sajal can stay, but in that case he will have to leave his bad habits, specially boozing and beating her.

Tonight, Malati has bought a new sari for her and a new frock for their daughter. She even managed to buy small half sleeved kurta for her husband. After all, this is the time when the shop keepers bestows people with their long awaited clearance sale for the year. The last of the Bengali year is the last day of this clearance sale. The next day being the Nababarsha, new year's day.

Sajal entered the room with the packet of frock in his hand. He at first was going to gladly hand it over to Malati, then, recalling the same scene, he just thrown it at a corner of the room.
"What is in it?" Malati enquired.
"None of your business." Sajal replied harshly. "It's something for Sunita."
"So, how much has it cost you?".
"That also not your concern." Sajal replied. "It's my hard earned money."
"Your money counts to our money. You are not supposed to waste all you get as salary on a single evening."
"Why? Can I not buy my daughter something? Why?"
"Because we need to save money. Have you ever thought, how we will live for betterment? To get out of this hell some day? Have you ever dreamt of this? Do you ever thought of your family? What they will eat, what they will wear? No. You waste your money, my hard earned money for drinking that dog pee every night." Malati barked back.
"I shall do whatever I shall think good. If you don't like to stay, leave immediately. Get out right now. I drink on my money, not on your nasty money."
"Is it? Whose property is this? This room is mine. Go get lost. You can't throw me out, I shall."
"Shut up. You bitch. You play around with men to get us money, you whore. Don't say another word, or I shall bit you up."
"Don't you know, your daughter is getting older now? Don't you know how to behave? Who said you such things? I am pure like Sati and Sabitri." (Sati and Sabitri are two famous mythological characters, famous for their honesty and loyalty to their husbands.)
"You behave yourself, you bloody whore. I have bought this from my honest income not from selling myself as you do. Say a single more word and I shall show what I can do."
"Do you think you can? Touch me right now. Show me the man you are. You nasty filthy pig. Your mind is full of shit."

In general, this regular quarreling leads to beating of Malati, sometimes it turns into a savage sexual encounter between them, but today the quarreling became louder over time. While all the other dwellers feel asleep being exhausted from their daily labors and daily habits, they carried on their quarrel for some time. Then Malati went to bed with her asleep daughter, while Sajal slept at the veranda outside.

This is how the last day of the Bengali year for a unknown lower class couple in Kolkata, ended.


Sorry ! Can't be regular in writing.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

I am very sorry to let you know my dear readers, that, I can't be regular to post new stories in this blog.

Also, the long story I planned about a mishap at the "Cyclone" Roller-coaster ride in the Nicco Park, a nearby amusement park at Salt Lake Sector V, Kolkata, cannot be continued by me right now.

So I am planning to drop the long story and come back again with the short stories at my own convenient time.

I regret the unexpected decision made by me and will try to write the second part of the long story in future. Meanwhile, please skip the story "Cyclone" and read my older short stories.

Thanking you all.

With regards,


Cyclone (The ride)

Thursday, January 21, 2010

There he is. Sitting on the end of the corridor waiting for her. He is dressed in his blue denim and white full sleeve T-shirt as he generally likes to wear on the off days, when they meet at the stipulated places, be it City Center, Salt Lake, or Mani Square Mall or the RDB Bulevard. He is also wearing a leather jacket for fighting the sharp sting of cold at this last week of January. He is different. He is the real man. Tall, smart, handsome and very witty. He is gorgeous. He is her's. That very feeling gives her a shudder somewhere inside her heart. Is he really hers? Will he be her's? Who knows.

He generally comes with Ronit. Ronit is a shy kind of a boy with brilliant big eyes behind his high power glasses.

She goes with Meghna. The girl, she thinks her best friend.

Meghna is not as good looking as she is. She is a bit fatter and shorter than her. Meghna was not her first choice though as she is much more intelligent and studious than she is. But, she didn't have other options. Meghna is dependable. At least about him. For, she knows, he loves her looks, not Meghna's.
So, where are we planning to move today? she enquired.
We are going to face the 'Cyclone'. he answered in short.
Ah! Cyclone, when where? In Kolkata? But this is winter. No chance of any wether hazard has been heard by her. She wondered, may be these guys know. She looked back at Meghna. She is chuckling. What so funny about a storm such as Cyclone, she thought.

Taxi! They entered into taxi and he told something to the cab driver. The cab started running.

'Give me some sunshine, give me some...', the new ring tone set by Swapnil reminded him about his immediate duty. No office today, he must meet Manisha. Things are not going good between themselves. Swapnil knows that he is not going to marry right now. At least not until his job gets settled at the new company he has joined. They have to wait till the things get settled. Manisha is a bit conservative girl and not a believer of pre-marital sex, not even in a less harmful manner, as it is common at any park at Kolkata. She has become furious after they have returned from Digha, the nearest beach resort. She is the one who fixed up this venue today. To decide the future of this relationship. What a place indeed. How will they discuss their future in such a crowded place? God knows and Manisha must be knowing, may be she is trying to draw an end to this. Swapnil left his sit, picked up the phone.

'Hi mom!'
'Yes dear. What's up?'
'Sir is not going to teach today. He has some other assignments in hand.'
'So, come back by the next bus'. Paroma insist.
'No mom. We have a plan for today.'
'Plan. What plan? Are you not coming back? I am cooking a special dish for you. You may bring Rishi and Mallika if you like.'
Paroma frowned. Will they come back right now? Even if it will take around thirty minutes to come back, what is she going to cook for them? Sima, her helping hand in daily works has just left. What she will do?
'No mom. We are not coming back. We are planning to have a little fun together and will come back before lunch.'
Well, the little girl has grown up. Paroma thought. She always used to come back in the name of good food from school. Paroma sighed.
'So, may I know where are you people going?'
'To face the Cyclone mom, and don't ask me anything else.'

Why on earth they have planned to go there? Nice place, nice rides, but Cyclone, what if. These words always come to her mind nowadays. Paroma felt that she is getting older. She has no office today, she has nothing important to do at this moment. She started going through the 'Femina' and continued thinking about the same 'what-if-buts', after all Tina is only fifteen.

Finally they are at 'Nicco Park', the biggest amusement park in the eastern India, a pride of Kolkata.

'So, now you know where the Cyclone is going to happen?' He asked timidly.
'No, not still now.' She answered. She has actually been frustrated. She could not imagine that they are heading towards Nicco Park as long as the cab not stopped. She has been here with her friends a couple of years ago. She hates the rides, specially the higher ones.

'It's the Cyclone ride. The roller-coaster ride in the park.' Meghna added.
'This is a wooden-roller coaster. With approximately 17 meters(55 feet) height and 750 meters (820 yards) long track, this is most probably the biggest wooden roller-coaster in Asia.' Ronit clarified.
'And that means I am not riding, you people enjoy your ride, leave me alone. I would go home.' Srija argued frustratingly.
'No way dear. You, on the other day, boasted that you know no fear.' Saunak replied. We all are in.

They headed for the ticket counter at the gate.

Tina and her friends reached for the toy train at first. This is a cool free ride that let the visitor have a glance of all the rides from outside. Today is pretty cool in the daytime. They all are using their scarf and caps on. Still the stinging wind passing by made them feel line pinching at their bones.

'So, this is the right place to talk you think? Swapnil asked as soon as they entered. This is a hell lot of crowded place, we could have gone to Nalban instead', he argued.
'Don't yell at me like that, or I shall get away right now.'
'OK, let's have coffee then. I am feeling pretty cold.'

Swapnil and Manisha took their seats at the food park.

A group of four young college students to the nearby seats. We all know them by now. They are Srija, Saunak, Ronit and Meghna. They are nearly end of their argument. They all want to give it a shot, even Srija.

'It will be great when he will be their beside her. I can grasp his strong hands and can depend upon him totally. After all, I am going to depend him for a very long time, in future.' she thought.
'So, you are my partner today.' Ronit asked meghna.
'No other choice.' Meghna giggled.

Tina, Rishi, Mallika and Srijib are now on the queue. They are going to ride the 'Merry Go Round'. That is Tina's favorite till her childhood. She suddenly started recalling those old days. Her father used to take her to different fairs just to let her ride the 'Merry Go Round'. She used to go round and round and round and used to look back to her parents time and again. Such a happy family they had. Tina felt that some teardrops are rolling down her chicks. Suddenly, se got conscious and wiped off before anyone could see.
'Why are feeling so bad? What went wrong?' Srijib asked.
'No, nothing.' Tina replied in short. Srijib is keeping a careful eye on her, she felt.

'So, are you not going to marry me?'
'This is the question you have asked a hundred times during the past few days. What's wrong with you? You know my job is new.'
'See, my parents are not going to wait for eternity. I am a school teacher. I cannot fool around with you all the time like this.'
'You are the one who have chosen such a public place full of school children around us. We could have arranged it somewhere else.'
'No. I want you to face the world say it loudly to me and the people around that we are going to get married. It is our fourth year and we cannot carry on celebrating our first meeting date each coming year. Rather I shall prefer to know the end of it. Yes or no. You can tell me frankly, I have saved some money for us, even I can arrange some loans on my behalf. Tell me if you are going to marry me or not. Right now. In front of everyone.'
'See, don't be silly. You know my condition. I am going to sale the flat dad owned. I shall have to pay off all the lenders, then only I can settle.'
'OK, you pay the lenders, I lend you money to marry. Let's not finish our love this way, of course, if it still exists.'
Yes it exists. After all these years. After the 'Digha' trip, the lonely room, the double bed and a not so wanted pre-marital sex, it still exists. Swapnil knows that, Manisha is her woman. The only lady he can depend upon in this heartless, hopeless, penniless situation. The only thing he needs is a bit of time. Suddenly Swapnil got a brain wave. He stood up finishing his coffee.
'What?' asked Manisha.
'Manisha, you want me to tell it to you if I love you or not and we are going to marry or not to all these people around? OK, I shall do that and for sure will shout it out. Please come with me.'
'Where? Are you planning to go out so early?' It must be a trick she thought. She must have hurt Swapnil. He has the prejudice of walking on his own. Till the day they met, she has noticed that and that is the best part she likes in Swapnil. He never takes help, specially monetary help from anyone. He has a real wide shoulder and a very brave heart to face his situations, specially after his father's death.

May be she is nagging too much, Manisha thought. Actually, she is getting frustrated about her situation. A fellow teacher of the junior-high school she teaches, is taking interest in her nowadays. Her parents are also trying to arrange something from their end. Her aunt is pressing hard to persuade her to leave Swapnil and opt for someone else she knows. It's a total hazardous condition. Though she is saying a firm 'no' each time, sometimes she also loosing faith on Swapnil. That 'Digha' trip shouldn't have happened, she thought. She is 28 now, when will she grow up.

After the queue for tickets they are now standing on the staircase which takes them to the landing platform of the 'Cyclone'. Meghna has ridden this once. She loved that ride. She sat on the fourth two seater coach of the eight coach coaster train. She enjoyed every bit of bit specially the first big fall that transfers the static energy to kinetic energy and lets the whole train move fast on the rails, without any power supply while it moves. She loved the view at the tallest spot, from where the whole area was clearly visible. The nearby lakes looked beautiful.

Ronit is not very confident about the ride. He never tried it before. He looked a bit helpless. Though it is his joint plan for the ride, the cold wind pinching on his face making him more nervous. He looked at Srija. She definitely be enjoying the ride. Specially with Sounak to help her, hold her and listen her. He could be there he thought. In his lone moments of weakness he has grown a very soft corner for Srija in his heart, and may be some envy for his dearest friend Sounak.

Rishi is not confident about the Cyclone either. His girl friend Mallika loves it, so he has to come, unless he would have avoided this queue to ride the high roller-coaster. He just don't like the height.
Srijib pat Tina on her shoulder. 'You will like this shot he said. I have rode this before. Nice view and the drops are excellent. And it takes only 2-3 minutes.'
'But I am feeling really cold.' Tina said. Can we not wait and try the other ride.
'It will be hot! You won't feel anything once you start to fall. And that's really fun,' Mallika explained.

Swapnil and Manisha just reached the landing station. There is a wooden fence, regulated by a gate keeper. Only sixteen people are allowed at a time.

There is huge noise on the tin shaded roof of the landing station. A train just entering the braking region. That will be their train.

*** Will come back with the second part very soon. ***


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