BRISHTI in the city of Joy

I was becoming a recluse. New to Kolkata and college life, ....... stiff  in sarees (a dress code set by our dictatorial principal), I could be seen ...rushing  to reach for the 11.45 class ....walking briskly through the mass of people......... sqeezing into the overcrowded buses that rattled through the obstinate traffic. A far cry from the easy going life spent in the bliss of the planned steel city of Rourkela, cocooned in the lap of lush green hillocks in Sundergarh district of Orissa.....where we would cycle down in groups, go for family picnics by the flowing rivulets in the winter breaks.... a picture perfect carefree life...I had spent 17 good years there. 

I dreaded those 45 minute - breaks that often punctuated the college time table. My classmates looked forward to these as opportune moments to hang out on the streets or around the happening Hazra Mode (Road Crossing). I was unable to befriend anyboby .....or be a friend to anyone either.

The desolated room in the college, at the end of the corridor of the first floor was furnished with a heavy wooden bench and an old green leather topped desk.  It was officially designated as the girls’ common room.  It was now happy to revive its neglected status on the arrival of its sole and regular visitors.....me and my companions… some old issues of Readers’ Digest or the medical thrillers by Dr. Robin Cook. 

The shift from Rourkela to Kolkata was entirely my decision.  My baba was to retire from the steel plant and I wanted to make a fresh start ….. I had just made an unsuccessful but whole hearted attempt to qualify the JEE to study medicine and had decided to shift from Science stream and from Rourkela to my Mamabari (maternal uncle's home) in Kolkata. 

Sociology as an Honours subject in Sir Asutosh Mukherjee College was drawn out as the future plan.  An upcoming stream, taught in few of the colleges ….. with even fewer takers.  

I was growing accustomed to spend more and more time with me. Till she barged in.  She named herself as Brishti….meaning 'rain' in Bangla.  I had seen her in class but had never interacted ....having dismissed her as an 'aantel' (a word colloquially used in Kolkata for the pseudo intellectuals ).  I still remember the surprise mixed with amusement that played on her face when she entered the common room and saw me sitting with my face buried into the pages of a thick book....she must have expected the room to be unoccupied. 

Brishti sought my help to adjust her saree.  Simply clad in an elegant white and orange cotton saree, slinging a khadi bag on her right shoulder, she offered back a quick smile that gave away dimples on her cheeks.  The sunken eyes, high cheek bones, a flawless radiant skin and dark wavy hair .... she reminded me of Sharmila Tagore, the film actor of the yester years.  Her presence in the room was a pleasant change from my virtual world. 

Soon, we became good companions for each other.  I explored the enchanting city through her eyes and learnt to enjoy it.  Be it Gariahata (the famous roadside market selling the trendiest articles at the best possible prices) or the Kalighat temple, egg rolls or college street book shops, # 24-29 electric tramcar (plying on the Ballygunge – Tallygunge route) or the ribbon like alleys meandering through the old and frail buildings, the majestic Victoria Memorial or Navina Cinemas near Prince Anwar Shah Road …..Brishti breathed in a unique meaning to everything we saw and experienced together. 

Proficient in Bangla literature, she recited and emoted contemporary poetry with a strong voice and a wide range of discernible feelings.  The only time she lacked in confidence was while taking down Sociology notes since the medium of instruction was English.  I felt obliged to get a window of opportunity to reciprocate.   I helped her with the class notes, grammar and subject content. She filled up my senses with her unmatched literary heights, novel political interpretations and with ‘Beni Madhob”, a poem by Joy Goswami (a Bengali poet), which is all about the unrequited love of a girl for Benimadhob, the person who ruled her thoughts.

The first two years went by and soon exams were approaching. Having tasted failure during the medical entrance exams after +2, having doused my dreams of wearing the coveted white coat and having decided to move away from the mainstream studies, I was hell bent upon to prove myself.

I set a strict study schedule, rationed my sleep time and kept me away from all possible forms of distraction so as to perform well in the the first milestone of graduation i.e., the Part I (at the end of the first two years).  The exams went well and the results were flattering.... I could secure a rank in the University which was a matter of pride for all, including the teachers at my modest college. 

But a year later, deep inside I think I was unconsciously perturbed by the challenge to reach up to the expectations laid on me to defend the rank in the final Part-II exam. 

By this time, my parents had permanently shifted to Kolkata.

Till date I know not for sure, what went wrong and why?  

The exams started.  The gap between the first two exam papers was significant, as much as five days and I was thoroughly prepared, much in advance.  But, after appearing for the first paper (which had went on well), I discussed it with my teacher (which I do not usually indulge into) and I convinced myself that I did NOT perform well. 

What followed next was nothing less than the para normal movies that you see, portraying characters playing dark, psychic roles. For the next four and a half days, my ma - baba had to silently tolerate the ordeal of handling a teenage daughter displaying all the tell-tale signs of acute depression.  I was beyond recognition….demonstrating agitation, restlessness, recklessness…. going weak from screaming, wailing and isolated attempts of trying to put an end to the life that I imagined to be filled with despair and hopelessness. 

Looking at my sorry and unstable state, my parents met and discussed the matter with my teacher, sought medical intervention, consulted the elders in the extended family and allowed me to decide to drop the forthcoming papers. But the supreme strength must have wanted things happen some other way.

We got an unexpected visitor on the fifth day, just the day before the second paper.  It was late in the morning.  Brishti’s elder brother came to our house.  He was sent to collect my class notes on a particular topic.  I gave him the notes readily but kept sober in his presence.  My parents too were silent on the ongoing domestic drama.  But, her dada sensed that something was not quite right.

At that time, having a private telephone line was a privilege reserved for a few and the internet was a distant technology for middle class families.  Yet, strong communication and telepathy did happen. 

By the evening we got a set of visitors, Brishti and her father.  Contrary to adding to our embarrassment by asking anything, the learned man simply asked me out for an evening walk in our neighbourhood. We trailed the familiar lanes, going past the local youth club, the fuchka (pani puri/gol gappa/ gup-chup) wallah, the pond that was filled up (my dada and I used to learn swimming in it whenever we visited Kolkata during summer vacations)....

Brishti and her dad soon fell into their usual habit of talking through poetry.  After an hour of walking, debating, reminiscing, we returned and they left.  I was feeling quite relaxed, light in my head and felt the urge to open my books to prepare for the next paper.

The next day, and for all subsequent days, I sat through all the papers, without creating riot.  But the prolonged bouts had taken its toll and fatigue had set in, which affected the performance in the second paper. 

This time, I could not retain my rank in the University but learnt what it means to be a true friend. 

 

(After marriage, Brishti completed her PhD. in Eco-Tourism studies .  She stays on in Kolkata and is currently a faculty in one of the colleges.  Her dad was conferred the honorary degree of D.Litt. by an Indian University in 2009. Our friendship and the telepathy continues.  I have become more responsible and aware to cope up reasonably with the life situations).

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