Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Bolpur Blues: Episode 3


By a week that followed, we had became friends; the kind that you smile at when you accidentally meet on the road. To tell you the truth, I hated this popular guy deep down for the quirk he was. But then I chose to be little civilized in the way I treat him.

And also, when favorite band merges the connection, and favorite song makes its way into human relationships, there is more than one reason to give it another shot.


The golden hour memory still very strong in the heart, and occasionally stretching my lips to a big happy curve, often advocated for the person I share the memory with.

I convinced myself saying the guy can break into jigs in the middle of the road, may be a warehouse of weirdness, but he is a goddamn guy to explore within.

And well, I needed more motivation to resume writing.

So why not get yourself a quirk character with a deep contemplative soul to write upon?


So another day, I was out on an evening date with myself, which I did ritually every day. I would come back from classes, grab a book, read a few pages, the chunk of the time spent staring through the window to the sunset outside. Then, when the sun had took away with itself almost all the brightness of the day, and just before the streetlamps would start coming out, I would get dressed and go out to the nearby tea shop.

I had a particular bench where I’d sit alone, looking away from the crowd behind, and dissolving the noise by the songs in the earphones.

I was little addicted to the view I got to see, every evening.

There was a ramshackle tea stall, mostly crowded by oldies; they would play vintage Hindi songs, and only lit halogen lamps.

The magical aura it had mostly come up for show after the moon came out.

The moon, usually on its waning phase, would appear just about the tea stall, crowded by stars.


I would often play Bhindeshi tara in my earphones and gaze at the sky; smile to myself wondering if there is a second soul not missing out this beauty.

Needless to say, the song would always remind me of the quirky guy.

By now, my subconscious, without my permission, had entangled his memory with my favorite song.


So, when I was done with sky gazing, and two cups of tea and more than two smokes, I started walking to explore the town I was new into.

Marketplace is crowded, the other lanes mostly don’t have lamps, shops are noisy; I was just deciding against going for a stroll and taking myself back, when I saw him. This time standing in a cigarette shop, not buying or smoking, but chatting with the shopkeeper; with that bright smile throughout.


This time I went and tapped his shoulder.

He turned, the same smile directed towards me, “Hey!”

“Just going around. Nothing much to do here after sundown, you see”, I said, and God knows why, I was pleasantly surprised that I had bumped into him.

Any day, a quirk is a better company to go around with than going back home and having no one to talk to.


“I am thinking of going Kasahara. You want to come?” He said while taking a phone call.

“Where is it?” I was clueless about the place he was talking about.

“It’s a restaurant. Come, I’ll take you.” He got all worked up.


We started walking, and he started taking, from Nietzsche to Lacan, from Philosophy to music. I was mostly listening, and somewhere far behind my head, Bhindeshi tara kept playing in a loop.

We walked lazily, sometimes taking the long way, through the halogen lit lanes, through the University campus, often bumping into my classmates and seniors.
Surprisingly, he knew all of them.


All these months in Santiniketan, and to this day, when people ask me what is the best thing about the place, I usually have conjured up images of the evening campus in my head; mostly dark, and some places brightly lit by yellow lights. Some places, the lights came through the leaves and created patterns on the road.

The lights made everything look like made of gold; gave a bright sepia tone to the visuals the eyesight met up with.


Coming back to conversations, I started liking the way he talked about the things he is passionate about; and I guess that is a good way to start with, to revert my opinions about him the other way round.