Valentine’s Day is over.
Has anything changed from 1992 to 2007? When I first came to know about Valentine’s Day, it was through Miscellany of “The Statesman”. Before this, I couldn’t answer for my life what it was (like many others of my age, under my age, and over my age).
And then, “Dil to Pagal Hain” created history. As much awful the movie was, it opened a whole new world to the Indian junta.
Calcutta is still the Calcutta it can be. Can’t say whether it’s better or worse….this city never ceases to surprise me, confuse me, confound me, irritate me……as well as make me smile when I think of it. We all know it’s Calcutta, with its Marxism, its warmth, its unbeatable humour, its message of never-say-die and its legendary conservatism to love and sex. That is Calcutta, leave it or take it. That’s the whole package….and you can’t have parts of it.
In this blog, I would attempt to create a montage of the “love scene” (hehe……!!hahaha….this is so Calcuttan…) of Calcutta.
Scene 1.
Place: Nandan
People: Me and Supratim
Day: don’t remember….some day in January.
We didn’t go to college that day. It was a Saturday and both of us told our respective family members that we have some special classes. Our respective parents possibly understood what it meant, but being worried Bengali parents, they cannot say NO to educational endeavours. We all cashed in on that. From the last we heard, people still are doing that.
So we thought we wouldn’t go to college as usual, and behave like other “normal” couples in love….go to some place where lovers actually go! It was an unusual cloudy winter day…I was wearing Salwar Kameez with a very colourful Naga Shawl and Supratim was in his usual attire….nothing breathtaking!
So we took the Metro and arrived at Nandan. Found a place and stationed ourselves. I was trying to assess how good the place was…and I saw a couple kissing. (Kissing! Kissing!! Kissing!!!!!!! Oh My God!!! This was me thinking then. That was my first live witnessing of kissing. It was very very unusual.)
Both of us got somehow very uncomfortable seeing that. Kind of embarrassed.
We were talking….and then after 5 minutes, I saw a policeman approaching us.
My spirit just made a dive and sanked. I thought this is it….today we are going to jails for breaching the notorious “decency and morality act”. Why did we even come here?? How can I even face my parents??
The policeman came to us.
I tried to think of the reasons why he was coming to us….(we were sitting quite apart) and the excuses I could possibly give if he asked us anything.
And asked me in a very polite voice: “Didi, aapnake ekta kotha jigyes korte pari? Aapni ei shawl ta kotha theke kinechhen?”….ami eirokom ekta shawl er khoj korchhi amar bou er jonyo kintu shilpo mela teo pelam na…tai aapnake jigyes korchhi”
(Sis, [usual address among strangers in Bengalis] can I please ask you a question? Where did you buy the shawl from? I’m looking for this kind of shawl for my wife….I even looked in the Trade Fair, but couldn’t get it there….so I thought I would ask you” )
My heart started beating again, and I replied “ami to kinini eta….aamake ekjon gift diyechhen” (“Oh…I didn’t really buy this,…someone gifted me”)
So, that was one such occasion of skipping my beat.
Scene 2
My heart had skipped a beat as soon as entered a classroom in Presidency College, one fine morning…..when I heard something from someone.
The reason had to do with a young first year undergraduate male kissing another young undergraduate second year female.
Needless to say, I belonged to neither.
But their kissing had brought about a revolution, which made my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the act per se, but the consequence.
The traditional Portico would be demolished, as it has become the hub of “indecent and immoral activities” in the college. The first year young couple had committed the act of kissing in the portico and thereby vilifying it.
In two or three days we saw the Portico where we discussed and shared our crushes, our dreams, our frustrations, our covered cynicism, our diplomacies, our heated debates, ….the portico where we found solutions to puzzles, questions, love questions, and answers that changed our lives, being crushed and demolished.
Scene 3
A group of students…some 15-16 of them became silent as a particular someone was seen to come in s distance. That someone was a young Indian male, wearing glasses, carrying a suitcase (!) (yes, in college), and had an almost indiscernible but can’t-miss-that sign of a smile. Some six months back, this young man was one of those who were anxiously looking over and fanning a young female undergrad, lying unconscious after a blood donation. When the female opened her eyes, the young male caught her attention and remained in her attention forever. He had a short and stocky figure and he was thought to be quite cute.
As soon as the young man came quite closer to that hostile looking silent group of students, they did what they were waiting to do. They called him a name. A name that he was given, a name that he was aware of, and a name that meant more than one could catch from its apparent meaning.
They shouted and called him “Shortma-a-a-an!”
As a result, two people missed their heartbeats.
The young man, and that young woman who was quite silent in the group, but who wouldn’t forget “Shortman” in her life to come.
And all of the silly and outrageous things happened in the name of Love.
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