With the hasty pace of this very busy world we all are running ,for the sake of our ambitions, race to be the last successful man standing ,denying our every single emotion just to be practical, to be mechanical in the urge of longing more and more. But how hard we try we can’t depart ourselves from the attraction that every single relation had adhered to it ,and the connecting chord may be from a natal connection, or a cosmic connection or connected within soul you can’t name them but can’t deny them also, call it illusion or distraction but this what bind us together and gift us with just great memoirs . Often miss Those playful childhood days so cherishing were they, which you treasure for your whole life and living a permanent trace behind and picking on the nostalgic triad. I still remember every summer those holidays spent in grandma’s house with all my dear beloved cousins was so fun. The three storied simple quite large anciently architectured house of grandma in old south kolkata was sometimes scaresome specially when all your mischievous brothers and sisters would plot of some disguise to leave their tiniest and not so brave sister alone in the store room and make her hear some unusual noises and then what she could only do was to run to her “amma” as I lovingly addressed my grandma, and would hid behind her saree’s anchal and her brave amma chewing a pan collecting it in one side of mouth and spitting a splash of some red semi-liquid thing vacating some room for her to speak she would say “don’t worry tanni ,there is no one ,its just your dada’s and didi’s and then she would scold all my extra clever cousins .though it was easy for her to say not to worry ,as she resides in the large sometimes ghastly building alone and she didn’t even get lost from getting into one room from another ,though even can’t I deny the automatic attraction which I had grown for the home intact with passing years .specially I love it during the vacation time stuffed with people all over ,those loud mixed echoing voices creating enough confusion, and being introduced to the same old faces but with unrecognized possibly new names and extra glitz was amma’s special cooking, from the very morning itself the fiesta would take off ,each one of my aunties including Ma crowded the kitchen and amma lead them all ,the final stir to every recipe would be from amma’s ladle and everyday after amma’s fixed hours reserved for her devotion contributed to the pujaghar activity ,she would herself arrange everything from grocery selection to grinding spices obviously Gopal dadu and gita pichi would be helping her. She cooks the best non-veg I have ever tasted in my whole life, though she is a total vegetarian religiously as she was compelled to be after Dadu left us ,which she then happily chose to be. Though before being a pure authentic Bengali once was a time when she wouldn't be having her rice without fish ,but that was past and being her age those long spent years of experience she knows to adjust,how to be the most enduring and so giving. Ah! Whenever I think of amma she would be in her well-ironed cotton pure white sarees with some little stretch of colour at the sides most promptly wore in traditional Bengali style and anchal always covering her head over her long mostly grey hair being knotted up ,and her one chick always swollen with a pan being stuffed in,and every day after the grand lunch she would sit with all of us in the terrace garden on her easy chair and us encircling her and being entertained with her illustrative stories and adjacently there was a beautiful handcrafted jute made swing quite old but strong enough where all of us would swing by turns. Then every evening she would take us for a walk and we would return in those special hand-pulled rickshaws those ones which give a special feeling specially when the rickshaw being taken up the err feeling something in stomach but altogether a different ride which we generally don’t get to cherish, but then with years we got busier this year that cousin of mine couldn’t make it then next year my exam must be knocking in. Ma might be giving some occasional customary visit but we miss it may be we lost the intension too. But its been a year since I met amma not even heard from too ,on repeated requests also she had an agitation against mobile technology and wouldn’t opt for a cell phone ,she resisted till a landline that too keeps on ringing in one corner of home hardly being answered. One fine day I just drop down infront of ammas “shanti-villas” without any notification, after repeated battering with the calling bell and thrashing on the door amma opened the door her old inquisitive eyes observing closely behind her bifocal glasses with a questioning attitude then suddenly something stroke her mind and she quickly responded “oh! My sweet lord tanni you” and she affectionately caressed my chick and kiss my forehead” I just hugged her back neglecting my mother’s repeated instruction of first touching her feet and then we went inside. Though this time the house appeared little different mismatching my statically allocated pre-image of this so full house and this time so deserted yet so peaceful ,how amma here manages to be alone? and whole day our discussion would continue and only one common conclusion to end amma would say “ tanni you have grown so much mature, such a lady unbelievable .Though her age doesn’t permit too much exertion still she personally instructed gita pishi to cook the most special dishes for me …time was just flying …After the sunset only the house appeared quite dark and still my fear free attitude hasn’t yet speak up so much and the mysterious darkness created enough doubts for me. I tried to stay with amma most of the time and seeing her brave perception towards life about striving in this house alone always made me feel proud of her ,being her granddaughter. Though the place had no scarcity of empty spacious rooms still I slept with amma at nights ..though amma’s detoriating health condition and her bad cough which followed her past high fever also led me to be with her as much as I can atleast the week which I am staying , and I hate the fact when she possessing every typical septuagenarian mentality would say “ don’t bother about me , only a guest to this world for just few days , I have lived enough dear” followed by my repeated protests but who cares she is determined to detach from every distractions of this humane world and would take her lord’s name as some salient hope to her distress named life …….at nights I couldn’t avail such a sound sleep maybe a new place was the cause and the place’s abundance ness was also a reason .one calm night my sleep as usual got disrupted …resisting my drowsiness I staggered to check the time..4’ o clock as my mobile displayed then as I was again adjusting myself for another spell of slumber I noticed amma was not beside me…peered through the attach bathroom but with no luck, I was blank and my transition state between the conscious and subconscious state restricted me from thinking too much though my enough throttled state forced my adrenalin to be extra precautious slowly with I checked with the nearby rooms and the different floors but the most life risking part was making it to the terrace and attached store house there knowing the fact the terrace light got fused the evening only, but collecting all my courage I proceeded towards the terrace my mobile’s flashlight couldn’t suffice enough brightness though , but luckily it was a moonlit night gorgeous studded with moonlight was the night I observed a shadow as I tip-toed in and the shadow was little bit oscillating too the I couldn’t believe my eyes I saw amma in the swinging jute cradle with her thinned long greish black hairs open without aanchal…I proceeded and stood beneath her slightly shook her she whispered sit down …she narrated lovely is the night beautiful the sky…and coughed a little her soaked throat creating enough disruption …then she went on “you no tanni your grandfather your dadu brought this swing specially for me ,when I came to this house I was merely 18 but your dadu didn’t gave me a single scope to complain though he didn’t express much till my tiniest of wish wouldn’t go unheard rather automatically being understood …would always say keep your hairs open playful on their own they look beautiful…after your dadu died almost 20 years though living me behind incomplete still this house of ours connected us never seen him then but felt him in each corner of this heaven ….you know whenever we two were off to somewhere he used to walk so fast I could never catch him but whenever I assumed I would loose him then his glance at once would relieve me he would always stop to look back …you know what tanni today his silent summon brought me to the terrace as if he has come to take me with him but you know all this years what hold me back was this heaven of ours promise me tanni you wouldn’t let die the soul out here keep our home …home” before I could realize anything amma tilted by one side of the swing couldn’t feel her breath anymore was just helpless and watched her turning cold ornamented with the extraordinary departing pleasing smile …amma left us and her heaven was nothing more than a celestial brick-cemented structure kept under lock and keys providing supreme reign of the spiders or a few other crawling reptiles abandoned from single human intrusion ….but amma’s soul and heart must be still there and only amma could bring some life into this place …and this home into heaven..
