« Home | A Sad Soptomi » | One Sentence Stories » | Just Another Day in front of the Subway » | Nothing to write home about » | Kismet Knitters » | Who Can It Be Knocking At My Doors ? » | The Last Wish » | Just like that..... » | A Mumbai Prayer » | First But Not First Enough » 

Saturday, September 30, 2006 

An Optimistic Ostumi

Invariably slept the whole morning...and missed the Ostumi Anjoli...even more missed the laal-paar saari wearing Bongo-naaris. Gotta deep deep thing for that laal-paar...ultimate manifestation of Bong beauty. By the time I woke up it was around 2 pm...already 4 voice mail waiting for me from Jethu.He is a college senior, who by the virtue of being one year senior to me and getting married and being the father of a child, considers somewhat a local guardian for me. But since Mumum his wife is a sweet girl and rakhi-sister and his daughter Rimjhim is even sweeter pal I've pardoned Jethu so long as he keeps his stock of Bourbon ready every time I land in his house for a meal. Jethu, no wonder he was nicknamed so in his college days, had gone from politest to rudest in the 4 VMs with a final threat "Bugger if you are not coming by next one hour...Mummum says no Hilsa for you on Sunday lunch !!"

Now this threat calls for some serious action. So I not even thinking of a shave, hastily take a bath, put on my sole kurta unironed and wrinkled, and drive to the Puja hall. As usual being the land of opportunity and cheap cars and even cheaper fuel, the parking lot is filled up across all the corners. Time to look for an alternate around 1-1.5 miles down south and come back walking. Just about to enter I see this angelic beauty in red chiffon saari and matching red bindi. Oh man, had I been a bull I would've rushed straightway at that red without a second thought. But since my primal instincts are in hibernating mode by the hang-over from last night, the prospect of a galloping feat is knocked off.

"Excuse me are you Amitabh ? ", she asks me.

My first thought: Look back, is she speaking to someone behind me. A glance backward tell me no one behind us, so I am the person addressed.
My second thought : Last time I checked Bengali version was Amitavo, maybe things've moved on.
My third thought : Oh baby, in my dreams I'm always the Amitabh from the 70s trying to define the angry young man. But in reality I'm a close resemblance for a Johnny Lever in one of his bad hair days.

And somewhere deep inside that Yudhistirian conscience kicks in and I say with a polite smile "You must'be mistaken...I'm Chilla". She smiles back...oh man I could've died a thousand times and come back on this planet again to see those cherry red lips moving and flashing the set of pearly teeth. “Sorry" says she and turns back. That's it as I poetically wrote once "Like a bubble a possibility shaped in the fabric of time". And here is the next line to complete the poem - And with a pin of truthfulness my conscience pricked it.

Later in the night, returning home I held my conscience by its throat and demanded an explanation.
Conscience said "Dumb-head, did you look at the girl's hand that held a mobile"
I said "Yes, the arm was so beautiful ...felt like kissing it"
C said : "I am talking of the mobile moron...what did the mobile tell you"
I said :"It was one of those latest mobile with what-not-feature from Nokia stables. Only thing I can conclude the girl who can afford that mobile must either have a good job or a rich father. I am okay with either of those...and even happier if both are true".
C slapped me hard on my face said : "It only says that a girl with a mobile must also have the number of the guy she's supposed to meet. So unlike the crappy RHTDM movie you couldn't have passed yourself as Amitabh. Better luck next time" and it went back to what it does most of the time, SLEEP.

So it looks like my conscience is more practical than me in earthly matters. Coming back to this Pujo hall, I saw laal-paars were on right, on left, on south, on north, on east, on west. But my breath was heavily laden and I was silently cursing my dad for not naming me "Amitabh" when Sholay was released much much before I was born. Jethu being a guy attributed this sorrow face of mine to my late night drinkings. Mumun being the girl and more sensible in heart related matters said "Looks like I need to talk to Mashima about Chilla's marriage".Rimjhim being the baby like a true pal said "Chilla-Uncle when I am big like my father, I will buy you a chocolate". And I like a great philosopher told her "Grow up fast sweetie...I can't wait too long for my chocolate to come".

In case someone wants to know what happened to Miss Laal-saari, I finally saw her with Amitabh. As usual the guy with any good looking girl always looks ugly to the eyes of someone without her. So I am a way-way biased to describe how they looked or was getting along together. I coaxed Mumun for about half-an-hour promising to do all the work in her house that Jethu wouldn't even bother to do even when at his best on Feb 14-th.Mumun came back smiling like what James Bond does at the end of the movie after he kicked the shit out of Dr. No and ready to embrace Ursulla Andress.

The information she had gathered was that the dame in Laal-saari has a name, and that name is : Mahua. Oh man, whatta name...Mahua. It’s my favorite drink brewed in the deep forests by the fun-loving Santhals. Even a full size bear can get knocked out with a bite from Mahua fruit. So intoxicating....!!! She's doing her Masters in the local univ here. Amitabh is some corp honcho in another bigger meaner city and has come down here as a pre-arranged pre-nuptial meeting.

So here is the prospective bride and prospective groom whose fathers(Amrish Puri and Satish Shah) might've agreed the day they were born these two when they become young will be married to each-other. And here I'm watching the DDLJ maybe for the 1001-th time, trying to figure out what were Sharukh's SMEs (Subject Matter Expertise) that lured Simran to break the paappa-da-vachan and run straight into Raj's arm-candy. Next time if she asks me whether I'm Amitabh, I'll put up the perfect SRK laughter imitation and say "No I'm Sharukh Khan". Then stand there for ages to see that smile flash across her cherry red lips and blinding me like a lightening.

Oye yaar main toh maar jaawa !!

:))) Too bad your conscience kicked in. Shubho Bijoya to you.

Chilla bhai don't lose heart. There's always 'next year':) Shubha Bijoya.

@M: No it was actually good.As Mr. Conscience explained it would've created more problem for me to pass of as Amitabh than to be the natural Chilla :) Was glad to see you mentioned in Telegraph.And yes a SUBHO BIJOYA.

@Panchu-da: Haan dada,asche bochor abar hobe :) SUBHO BIJOYA.

Barta pathai chokher tarae,
Barta pathai oustha-dhare,
Somostodin saratadin -
Roudro-chaya-e,Srabon-dhara-e,
Barta pathai Chokh-r tara-e.


Eikhane joma hochee Barta-sonkonlon.

Ei blog-r jonopriyotar suyoj niye blog-malik-r onumoti charai ekta nirlojjo bigyapon diyedilam.Jodi nijo-gune maaf kore dao,tobe oikhane podudhuli diye badhito koro,onyothae delete button boro kaajer jinis.

Bishu,kobita bisesh kore adhunikotake ei goda budhitte bujhte parina.Amar khudarto jogota tai godyomoy. Tobe bigyapon-ta thak...rosikjone ros-r sondhane jaabe.

chilla - saptami, ostumi gograse khabar por nabami/dashami ta khub miss korlaam. aar mohua-r moto neshe aar kishe guru. hangover-o hoy royeshoye. aar ektu holei ba ki kheti.

Hutum-da,onekdin pore paer dhulo porlo.Nobomi-ta chirokaali besh dukhu-dukhu laage...tai oi post-ta asche bochor-r jonyo thak.Mohua-r(maney torol podartho-ta) byapar-e ekkebaare ekmot.Aar onyo Mohua...se kotha thak.Panchu-dar kothamoto asche bochor abar hobe ;)

Post a Comment