Ketaki’s memoir explores a life filled with personal and professional challenges, highlighting family, academic, and medical experiences and a memorable incident, exclusively for Different Truths.
Father had to join MJN Hospital, Cooch Behar, after his long stint at Berhampore Sadar Hospital, when I was in Calcutta, being pampered by my grandmother to such an extent that I was not caught red-handed reading storybooks without any pretext or any quailing heart. I loved the liberty though, as there had been none to stop me from creating mischief while she sailed into her siesta on holidays, none to box my ears to spot me playing ‘kata-kuti’ (tic-tac, winning the game with only some zeroes and crosses) just to skip my maths practice, which left me bored to the bone.
After that, much water had flown down the Ganges, and with a few academic degrees in my satchel, I could land a job in a government college and was posted at ABN Seal College, Cooch Behar. Much to the delight of my parents, they would get their ‘Professor’ (in true terms, I was a lecturer then) daughter in their folds. I was happy too, as metal coins would now jingle in my purse along with quite a few paper currencies. I would have a good amount in my salary account too. Buying books and knick-knacks would not be a luxury then, but a nice hobby to indulge in. I could spend money on anything my heart wished to. I bought my parents and Tapa things of my choice, which they treasured till death, and Tapa does, to date.
My mom was diabetic since her third child, a beautiful daughter (unfortunately she died while our father was serving Behrampore Sadar Hospital). Hence, she was developing some ailments every month or so as she stepped on to sixty. I had to accompany her to Shankar Nethralaya, Chennai, twice for her cataract surgery. I had to take her to Calcutta for pacemaker implantation too, as she was diagnosed with ‘bradycardia’. Again, my father entrusted me with the responsibility.
Pacemaker Implanted
I went to a renowned hospital, stayed there in a cabin with her, and had all necessary tests done before the implantation, and everything went successfully. With her pacemaker, she said, she was feeling better and was staying at our uncle’s place for a couple of days, I ventured out with her to be taken to North Bengal. Tapa had come to the railway station to receive us. Mom alighted from the train as a victorious soldier, winning accolades after a crucial battle. Stationing mother with Tapa at home, I ran to the college to join my duties. And I also made my point clear that in a month, the first follow-up had to be done with the cardiologist. Hence, I might have to go for another short spell of absence. The principal, however, did not oppose it.
Keeping the students abreast of my leave to be taken in a month, I began to teach the texts meticulously, so that a chunk of it could be done before I left for mom’s first check-up after installation of the device. After getting the leave sanctioned, I came back home in a relaxed mood.
The next morning, I went to the railway station counter to book two tickets for our journey to Calcutta on an emergency basis (Tatkaal). Thank God, our journey was confirmed in an A.C. two-tier coach! I slipped the tickets into my reticule, oblivious to the details.
Festive Charms
December 21, 1999: I dressed up neatly to attend a Freshers’ Welcome programme, organised by the students of my department. A gala, a colourful occasion oozing oodles of festive charms, especially when ‘Merry Christmas’ was just around the corner. I was welcomed heartily by my students. I delivered a speech airily amidst wide applause and big hands. On their request, I churned out two poems from the sepia casket of my memory. As I took my seat, an outgoing third-year student sidled up to me and, in a wheedling tone, entreated to leave them to themselves so that they might have enough opportunity to know their ‘juniors’ and ‘jolly-rag’ them. What an audacity! Instead of turning irascible, I reciprocated his suave dare-devilry and stepped out of the room, putting on a dignified air.
Anyway, as I was coming back through a palm-lined thoroughfare drawn by a rickshaw with a packet of delicacies handed to me by the students, an unknown thrill kept my spirits high. A few days to be off from my busy schedule, at least a few nice moments to drop into the memory box! Drudgery, boring repetition of every work, cussed demeanour of a few irritating colleagues…ah! A welcome respite! Of course, there is no escape from concomitant responsibilities. Yet even then!
December 22, 1999: I woke at cockcrow for my usual practice of arpeggios on my sitar—a heavenly experience I hardly would skip. The nascent sunrays jostled with the calm of dawn and the earliest pipe of half-awakened birds, merged with the twang-twang of the instrument. Tension started mounting when the last-minute check began: two hampers, a big picnic basket, a big shopping bag, and a VIP suitcase, that’s all. Parathas and aloo curry were packed in a tiffin box by our petite Dolon. Two thermos flasks, one loaded with warm water and the other with water at room temperature, had been put into the picnic basket. A towel and my room sandal were all added to a last-minute flurry.
As my brother had gone out to hail a cab, I fished out the journey ticket to have a cursory glance at it. Oh God! I could not believe my eyes! The journey date was December 21! That was yesterday! But how could that be? The ticket issuer told me that she had got confirmed tickets for December 22! Did she mix up the dates too?
My Legendary Amnesia
Mom thrust all misdoings on me and my legendary amnesia. I plonked on the sofa, sensing myself as the most incorrigible dolt that ever walked on this earth! Shrugging off my zombie-like lethargy, I got to my feet and rushed to the railway station to get rid of my confusion. After heated nerve-shattering exchanges with the CS staffer, the lady at the ticket counter, I approached the Station Superintendent, who with his commendable humility helped me get a modicum of the expenses I had already incurred by booking the tickets. Coming back home with a heavy heart, I spent the day with Marcus Aurelius.
A strange surprise awaited me at the close of the day. I fought off my supine indolence at about midnight and walked out to the balcony. A mind-blowing spectacle rendered me speechless. A big silver-platter-like moon with a dazzling orb looked at me from the nocturnal sky, straight. How could the Queen of Night come so proximal to my balcony?
I was ravished by its radiance, its splendour, and its exquisiteness that begged description. The still night hummed a tune to my ears, ever unheard. The serenity of the ambience made the all-pervasive charm so palpable that I stood there for hours together, as though I had been driven to a trance. The tree-lined macadamised thoroughfare, the roof-tops of private apartments, and the rustling foliage all stood inundated by the generous abundance of moonshine.
A Lunar Hypnosis
A little bird whistled from somewhere to draw its mother’s attention to the lavish shower of milk-white moonbeams. To my utter amazement, a cur nestling close to the light post below threw its head up, dazed by the lunar hypnosis. I could not remember witnessing such mesmerising potentials of the moon ever before! I could budge an inch from the balcony. The frisson of ecstasy was so overpowering that I toddled to my bed at about 3.30 a.m. to catch some forty winks.
I was not at all repentant for the mistake I had committed. The Millennium Blunder had accorded me a chance to be greeted by the Millennium Moon that night. Wasn’t I fortunate enough to be transported to a dream world under the silvery moonshine, flooding all in its trajectory? Something is lost to make way for something else to be gained!
Picture design by Anumita Roy
By
By
By
Thank you for a delightful read and for sharing so much of yourself with your readers.