Hello dear Reader,
Another year! Brand new one! And I move along with you all on the journey called life. This year will begin the third series of my bunch of letters to you. Sharing snippets of my life and providing glimpses to my thoughts builds a strange kind of intimacy with you all. Almost like sharing moments with compatriots. Phone calls, messages or social media lacks the warmth of the personal touch. You might ask why phone calls or a messages cannot do the wonders which a letter can? Well for one, a letter doesn’t trigger an immediate response. It doesn’t crush the sentiments or emotions with flurry of words thrown at you on a rebound. And secondly, and most precious I would say, is its innate capability to be unabashed about expressing inner most emotions. It’s powerful and magical to be able to be yourself in an authentic way. So I come to you with my year end stories and begin my next chapter of adventures.
2024 began with a trip to Kolkata and I wrapped it up with a trip back to her again. If you wonder why I’m referring to Kolkata as ‘her’ then let me tell you a bit about her personality. She’s like the grandmother who had lived a life of a maverick. ‘Been there done that’ kind. She is not enchanted by the new age glamour nor is in any rush to embrace it. She soaks herself in the nostalgia of the bygone days and keen to share the romance of her youth with a patient listener. She has draped herself with shimmery lights of the discos of the 60s, the ideology of the naxalite movement, the elite essence of the Presidency college. Bejewelled by the songs of Rabindranath, the fiery verse of Shakti Chattopadhya, the mysticism of Vivekananda and the zeal of Bose, she epitomises grace.
If you are curious and spend some more time with her, you will hear the folklore of the Ganges, the ghost stories of National Library, about the romance of Victoria Memorial and anecdotes blowing through the corridors of Writers Building or Lal Bazaar. Kolkata quintessentially tastes like Aminia’s Biriyani or like the chap made at Royal. And if you ask the right questions she will provide you “tok, jhal, mishti “ (sour, spicy and sweet) responses like her phuchkas about gossips strewn across the north and south divide of her curves. The enigma that she is, Kolkata reminds me of the Thakuma ( grandmother) of the Thakurmar Jhuli ( children’s stories of grandma - Bengali fairy tale).
It was lovely to wrap the year in her arms. The week long stay ensured that I met up with uncles, aunts and cousins. Spent time with my nephews and nieces and could fulfil one of my age old desires. I wanted to consecrate a space of my own. You see, even in today’s world of jet set speed and wifi connectivity, we don’t know how to provide a sanctuary for women. Most of us, leave the home of our father to step into the house of our in-laws. If you’re lucky then may be the home of your husband. It really doesn’t matter if you’ve contributed to the buying of the property or making a home out of it. Under that roof you are thinking about everything and everyone but yourself. You are chasing an illusion which has been instilled in you by eons of socio-structural conditioning. You are doing everything to create a haven for those you call your own. Unfortunately and often, you, yourself are not included in the coterie you’ve created. So most of us women create a space within our minds. A secluded safe place where we store stories, traumas, grief, love, desires and ambitions. And honestly that is where we live and die an entire lifetime.
I wanted a place to be called mine. Tagged as mine. I can die in peace there, in that 500 square foot space, breathing my last. And even if I die in a God forsaken land, I’d still know there was this place on earth which was mine. And hence in a small town of Shantiniketan, my home was consecrated. Few square foot bought 10 years back before I left Bengal, was now blessed by the energies of the Universe.
The thought that I could step in to create my Retreat here, filled me with joy. You can ask if I’m happy? Well no, not actually….I’m at peace. I can enter this little nook without requiring to give any explanation or reasons to anyone. Without addressing to anyone’s needs or sheathing myself in cloak of compromise or buying peace by bartering with adjustments, I can be. Here I can feel the light. This is where I would retreat from the world to find myself.
I’m mighty glad that I could keep a promise to myself. I could end the last year feeling complete. Now, I can happily let go of all that needs to go and fearlessly embrace whatever my life has in store for me. My dearest readers I hope you find your harbour of happiness if you haven’t found it yet. And if you are enjoying your space then I wish you fill it with joy and abundance. May you have the strength of spirit to keep dreaming and fulfilling them. May this shiny new year treat you well. With all the love and warm endearments
Always yours,
Pocket full of life
