Dawn at Midnight.
Book 1: Transmigration. Chapter 1: Princess in an Ivory Cage
Introduction:
The protagonist is a female. She lost her love due to guile values of the society and families around her. She walks on the unpaved coarse path of life, trying to cope with the world around her. She gets lost while walking her path. Lots of people comes in her life, some shows her dreams some uses her.
To understand her pains and feelings, one has to step in her shoes and walk with her. The writer hopes that the depiction of her life would be life like and the writer will try with utmost effort to bring out those feelings in her and give proper justification to her story.
Several points in this whole story might look like loose ends, life has their loose ends that is why it is called life and we don't have explanation to most of the things. Why that happened, why not this? No one has explanation as why sun rises from east or why the earth has to be round or why the crow is black or why lion has to eat meat.
That was one side of the coin.
"Dawn at Midnight" is the other side of the coin.
*****************************************************
Book 1: Transmigration
Chapter 1: Princess in an Ivory Cage
“Mita, what are you going to buy for this Puja?” Teesta asked me.
I shook my head “Nothing, dear. Whatever ChotoMa will buy for me, I will wear.”
“You are terrible” Teesta laughed at me, playfully slapped my cheeks.
I squeezed my nose and looked at her---“Why? What dress are you going to wear this Puja?”
She whispered in my ears---“If my new boyfriend allows me to wear anything then only I could wear dresses.”
I winked at her and asked---“Hmmmm…. Naughty girl. Who is this new guy?”
She winked at me---“Why? Are you going to steal him from me?”
I shook my head and laughed at her “No Teesta. Keep yours inside wherever you want.”
She whispered in my ears again, voice filled up with mischief---“Let me taste him first and then you can have him.”
I slapped her softly---“Jah! Why should I taste the leftovers?”
She gave a queer look at me and asked---“Why? Have you found someone?”
I shook my head and laughed at her---“Naah! Re Baba. I don’t have that luxury. My Babu and ChotoMa will kill me, if they come to know.”
It was Friday; I was waiting for the bus at the College Street bus-stand. Just came out of Presidency College to travel back home. I was in my usual dress, in my usual cotton salwar suit. The jute bag containing my books and notebooks were on my left shoulder. I was frequently looking on my left wrist, the titan watch. I was probably getting late for my home. I could feel prying eyes of those passers-by looking at me as I waited there. I wrapped the dupatta all over my upper torso and clasped the jute bag on my chest to hide my treasures from those prying lewd eyes of the onlookers.
It was strict order from my Babu and ChotoMa to return to home before the night fall.
ChotoMa was actually my distant cousin sister Ulupi Di. Although she was my cousin sister but she was about the age of my mom. I called her Choto Ma (younger mother) because during my childhood days she breastfed me when my father died and my mom always cried. She took me in her arms and gave me warmth in the cold night, sang me lullaby while I slept peacefully on her lap. My life was in debt to her. I addressed my brother-in-law as Babu (pet name for a father). I never knew the love of my father. My father passed away when I was only two and half years old, so I tried to wring every tiny drop of affection whatever Babu showered on me.
During my youngest brother, Subroto’s marriage, ChotoMa was invited to my home so that I could pursue M.Sc. and due to her I was then standing at that bus-stand waiting for my bus.
I got admitted in Presidency College in the beginning of September 2001, after the results of B.Sc was declared. ChotoMa and Babu tried hard for my admission in Presidency College for my M.Sc. and I got admission with my major in Nuclear Physics.
I knew it very well that that Puja Vacation would be the most painful among the past twenty-five Durga Puja’s that I had enjoyed till then. Everywhere the air was filled up with vibrant ambience of Puja Vacation. Durga Puja was to come in October. People were roaming on the streets buying new dresses for themselves and for their near and dear ones. The sky was cobalt blue with tuft of white clouds floating around. The weather was pleasant as the monsoon left Kolkata just few weeks back. The aroma of the Puja was drowning the air around me.
I stood silently waiting for my bus and Teesta was talking with someone on her cell-phone. I didn’t have that luxury of having a cell-phone then. The bus arrived at last and we boarded.
We all had spare keys except ChotoMa as she used to arrive late. As I entered my house, I found Babu was reading the newspaper in his room. Babu retired last month from Airport Authority of India, DumDum Airport. He was Senior Manager in his organization the time he retired. He was very strict and disciplined and he tried to maintain that very discipline also at home.
Babu asked me in his usual deep tone---“ShonaMa; how was your college today?”
I answered quietly ---“It was ok Babu. I was unable to get the bus in time, all were very crowded coming from Howrah station.”
He asked for a cup of tea ---“ShonaMa, can you please make a cup of tea for me?”
---“Ok Babu.”
That was everyday’s question from Babu. Every day I came home after college I had to answer the same question. At times he used to call me as ShonaMa (golden girl) also. But that name was called by him only when he was in good mood.
I changed my dress to my usual cotton dressing gown and walked into the kitchen.
I took out the saucepan from the cupboard and poured water in that saucepan.
The water was boiling and I was lost in my thoughts again. The water vapours were flowing all over my face and my eyes were day dreaming again.
All the colours from my life were gone by a small wrong move. Life was like sixty-four squares of chess, thirty-two whites and thirty-two blacks. A person once told me. I felt life-less as corpse after the most beloved person of my life was taken away from me. That person was banished from his own house. What was his fault? What did he do? He loved me. He breathed soul in my life-less, colour-less life. Took me to the mountains and played with me like a child. In winter nights, I felt most secure in his arms. His only fault was that he loved me. He was younger than me by two years and he was the son of ChotoMa.
Perhaps no one would understand our love.
He screamed his heart out, trying to pacify ChotoMa that age was not a factor and neither had we had any blood relation. But it was the prestige and snobbishness of my ChotoMa and the relatives that made a guile wall of so called society and their responsibilities, around us.
They were very much protective about me. The room on the second floor was locked away forever. I was not even allowed to goto the roof. Every small traces of him were erased away from the walls, from the ceiling, from the doors and windows of that house. His old books were sold away; his old clothes were given away to beggars or to the utensil-vendors. No new person could tell that my ChotoMa had a son in her life; everyone knew that I was their only daughter.
ChotoMa took away the cream shawl from me after he left. The only trace that I kept secretly along with me was his brown diary. It was my “Bible”, my “Koran” and my “Gita”. There is an old saying that “It is always dark, just under the lamp.” so I covered that diary with a brown paper and kept that along with other books in my bookshelf. I marked that diary as “Optics Notebook”. Optics was his favourite paper.
After he left the house no one talked about him. I was asked to keep my door open even during night. Probably ChotoMa thought that I could have harmed myself somehow. I was a small town girl; I didn’t have that courage or stupidity to take my life. I accepted my fate and tried to live like a corpse then.
I could not even cry properly. Every time there was a pair of prying eyes hovering on me. The only time I was left alone was in the bathroom. Several thousands of time I banged my head on the mirror and tried to break that mirror so that somehow the glass pierce in my head and my life comes to an abrupt untimely end. Alas! The mirror was also not in my favour.
Just then Babu called me again ---“ShonaMa is the tea ready? I have to goto market.”
I answered from the kitchen, while pouring one teaspoon of tea in that boiling water.
---“Just a minute Babu; almost done.”
Probably a drop of my tear also got mixed in that saucepan of boiling water. I wiped my nose and my face with the back of my hand and filtered the tea in a cup.
I walked to his room and kept the cup on his table. Babu was still reading the newspaper.
Without even looking at me he said to me---“Tomorrow your ChotoMa will take you for shopping to ShaymBazar for Puja. What do you want this time?”
I scratched the side of the table with my long finger nails and stood silently.
He looked at me; my long eyelashes were still deluged probably. He clenched his jaws and got up from his chair.
“I will goto market only after your ChotoMa arrives. I think that will be better.” His voice sounded stone cold in my ears.
He walked out to the drawing room and switched on the TV.
He handed me the newspaper and said---“If you don’t have to do anything now then read The Statesman. This will make your English vocabulary strong.”
Just then the doorbell ranged, I climbed down the stairs to open the door. It was time for ChotoMa to arrive from her school.
Yes I was right; it was ChotoMa standing at the door.
Book 1: Transmigration. Chapter 1: Princess in an Ivory Cage
Introduction:
The protagonist is a female. She lost her love due to guile values of the society and families around her. She walks on the unpaved coarse path of life, trying to cope with the world around her. She gets lost while walking her path. Lots of people comes in her life, some shows her dreams some uses her.
To understand her pains and feelings, one has to step in her shoes and walk with her. The writer hopes that the depiction of her life would be life like and the writer will try with utmost effort to bring out those feelings in her and give proper justification to her story.
Several points in this whole story might look like loose ends, life has their loose ends that is why it is called life and we don't have explanation to most of the things. Why that happened, why not this? No one has explanation as why sun rises from east or why the earth has to be round or why the crow is black or why lion has to eat meat.
That was one side of the coin.
"Dawn at Midnight" is the other side of the coin.
*****************************************************
Book 1: Transmigration
Chapter 1: Princess in an Ivory Cage
“Mita, what are you going to buy for this Puja?” Teesta asked me.
I shook my head “Nothing, dear. Whatever ChotoMa will buy for me, I will wear.”
“You are terrible” Teesta laughed at me, playfully slapped my cheeks.
I squeezed my nose and looked at her---“Why? What dress are you going to wear this Puja?”
She whispered in my ears---“If my new boyfriend allows me to wear anything then only I could wear dresses.”
I winked at her and asked---“Hmmmm…. Naughty girl. Who is this new guy?”
She winked at me---“Why? Are you going to steal him from me?”
I shook my head and laughed at her “No Teesta. Keep yours inside wherever you want.”
She whispered in my ears again, voice filled up with mischief---“Let me taste him first and then you can have him.”
I slapped her softly---“Jah! Why should I taste the leftovers?”
She gave a queer look at me and asked---“Why? Have you found someone?”
I shook my head and laughed at her---“Naah! Re Baba. I don’t have that luxury. My Babu and ChotoMa will kill me, if they come to know.”
It was Friday; I was waiting for the bus at the College Street bus-stand. Just came out of Presidency College to travel back home. I was in my usual dress, in my usual cotton salwar suit. The jute bag containing my books and notebooks were on my left shoulder. I was frequently looking on my left wrist, the titan watch. I was probably getting late for my home. I could feel prying eyes of those passers-by looking at me as I waited there. I wrapped the dupatta all over my upper torso and clasped the jute bag on my chest to hide my treasures from those prying lewd eyes of the onlookers.
It was strict order from my Babu and ChotoMa to return to home before the night fall.
ChotoMa was actually my distant cousin sister Ulupi Di. Although she was my cousin sister but she was about the age of my mom. I called her Choto Ma (younger mother) because during my childhood days she breastfed me when my father died and my mom always cried. She took me in her arms and gave me warmth in the cold night, sang me lullaby while I slept peacefully on her lap. My life was in debt to her. I addressed my brother-in-law as Babu (pet name for a father). I never knew the love of my father. My father passed away when I was only two and half years old, so I tried to wring every tiny drop of affection whatever Babu showered on me.
During my youngest brother, Subroto’s marriage, ChotoMa was invited to my home so that I could pursue M.Sc. and due to her I was then standing at that bus-stand waiting for my bus.
I got admitted in Presidency College in the beginning of September 2001, after the results of B.Sc was declared. ChotoMa and Babu tried hard for my admission in Presidency College for my M.Sc. and I got admission with my major in Nuclear Physics.
I knew it very well that that Puja Vacation would be the most painful among the past twenty-five Durga Puja’s that I had enjoyed till then. Everywhere the air was filled up with vibrant ambience of Puja Vacation. Durga Puja was to come in October. People were roaming on the streets buying new dresses for themselves and for their near and dear ones. The sky was cobalt blue with tuft of white clouds floating around. The weather was pleasant as the monsoon left Kolkata just few weeks back. The aroma of the Puja was drowning the air around me.
I stood silently waiting for my bus and Teesta was talking with someone on her cell-phone. I didn’t have that luxury of having a cell-phone then. The bus arrived at last and we boarded.
We all had spare keys except ChotoMa as she used to arrive late. As I entered my house, I found Babu was reading the newspaper in his room. Babu retired last month from Airport Authority of India, DumDum Airport. He was Senior Manager in his organization the time he retired. He was very strict and disciplined and he tried to maintain that very discipline also at home.
Babu asked me in his usual deep tone---“ShonaMa; how was your college today?”
I answered quietly ---“It was ok Babu. I was unable to get the bus in time, all were very crowded coming from Howrah station.”
He asked for a cup of tea ---“ShonaMa, can you please make a cup of tea for me?”
---“Ok Babu.”
That was everyday’s question from Babu. Every day I came home after college I had to answer the same question. At times he used to call me as ShonaMa (golden girl) also. But that name was called by him only when he was in good mood.
I changed my dress to my usual cotton dressing gown and walked into the kitchen.
I took out the saucepan from the cupboard and poured water in that saucepan.
The water was boiling and I was lost in my thoughts again. The water vapours were flowing all over my face and my eyes were day dreaming again.
All the colours from my life were gone by a small wrong move. Life was like sixty-four squares of chess, thirty-two whites and thirty-two blacks. A person once told me. I felt life-less as corpse after the most beloved person of my life was taken away from me. That person was banished from his own house. What was his fault? What did he do? He loved me. He breathed soul in my life-less, colour-less life. Took me to the mountains and played with me like a child. In winter nights, I felt most secure in his arms. His only fault was that he loved me. He was younger than me by two years and he was the son of ChotoMa.
Perhaps no one would understand our love.
He screamed his heart out, trying to pacify ChotoMa that age was not a factor and neither had we had any blood relation. But it was the prestige and snobbishness of my ChotoMa and the relatives that made a guile wall of so called society and their responsibilities, around us.
They were very much protective about me. The room on the second floor was locked away forever. I was not even allowed to goto the roof. Every small traces of him were erased away from the walls, from the ceiling, from the doors and windows of that house. His old books were sold away; his old clothes were given away to beggars or to the utensil-vendors. No new person could tell that my ChotoMa had a son in her life; everyone knew that I was their only daughter.
ChotoMa took away the cream shawl from me after he left. The only trace that I kept secretly along with me was his brown diary. It was my “Bible”, my “Koran” and my “Gita”. There is an old saying that “It is always dark, just under the lamp.” so I covered that diary with a brown paper and kept that along with other books in my bookshelf. I marked that diary as “Optics Notebook”. Optics was his favourite paper.
After he left the house no one talked about him. I was asked to keep my door open even during night. Probably ChotoMa thought that I could have harmed myself somehow. I was a small town girl; I didn’t have that courage or stupidity to take my life. I accepted my fate and tried to live like a corpse then.
I could not even cry properly. Every time there was a pair of prying eyes hovering on me. The only time I was left alone was in the bathroom. Several thousands of time I banged my head on the mirror and tried to break that mirror so that somehow the glass pierce in my head and my life comes to an abrupt untimely end. Alas! The mirror was also not in my favour.
Just then Babu called me again ---“ShonaMa is the tea ready? I have to goto market.”
I answered from the kitchen, while pouring one teaspoon of tea in that boiling water.
---“Just a minute Babu; almost done.”
Probably a drop of my tear also got mixed in that saucepan of boiling water. I wiped my nose and my face with the back of my hand and filtered the tea in a cup.
I walked to his room and kept the cup on his table. Babu was still reading the newspaper.
Without even looking at me he said to me---“Tomorrow your ChotoMa will take you for shopping to ShaymBazar for Puja. What do you want this time?”
I scratched the side of the table with my long finger nails and stood silently.
He looked at me; my long eyelashes were still deluged probably. He clenched his jaws and got up from his chair.
“I will goto market only after your ChotoMa arrives. I think that will be better.” His voice sounded stone cold in my ears.
He walked out to the drawing room and switched on the TV.
He handed me the newspaper and said---“If you don’t have to do anything now then read The Statesman. This will make your English vocabulary strong.”
Just then the doorbell ranged, I climbed down the stairs to open the door. It was time for ChotoMa to arrive from her school.
Yes I was right; it was ChotoMa standing at the door.