I was listening to a CD of an old Joni Mitchell album, and it soon turned out I was playing an awkward historian’s joke on myself. I had got to the song about ‘playing that scratchy rock and roll’, and had then noticed I was listening for the scratch. On that track, though not in the exact place of that lyric, on my father’s copy of the record, there had indeed been a scratch.
Just like happiness, sadness is also a part of your life, Mumma tells them. So every night Ujaan and Didi tell Mumma their happy part and sad part of the day. One of each kind. Ujaan likes to talk about the happy part first, because most days he doesn’t have a sad part.
Their party of nine was quite an interesting bunch. Didan was the eldest member of the team. She was eighty-one, and Ujaan the youngest member barely “onety-one”!
I would often wander through the open front door and stand in the hollow rooms and gaze at the stains on the whitewashed walls where photo-frames of family portraits once hung.
For every individual, a scent and the memories it conjures is a unique story to tell. For many residents who have lived long enough in Kolkata and the city is ingrained deep within their soul, this experience is probably shared.
And the time was just before our Half-Yearly (Mid-Term) Exams. Thus, we were busy with exam preparation rather than participating in Birthday festivities.
Some of my happiest memories revolve around Berhampore, Murshidabad, where my grandparents lived. My cousins and I would spend our vacations there and were up to no good most of the time.
Ours was a messy expanse where wildflowers, bougainvillea and rambling roses grew in abandon
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