recycling pet bottles!

Spotted around BBD bagh, Kolkata.
A cabbie gets creative enough to make up for the lost cap of the fuel line on his Ambassador Taxi.
For the clueless, its the bottom part of a 500ml soft drinks bottle.
Good, eh?

The pickle seller

One humid evening in April In Kolkata.
I had just been back from work, when ma reminded me that we had this plan of going out to buy some cooking oil from the nearest food mall. We were supposed to buy in bulk as they were offering solid discounted rates, so both of us needed to go.
So, our outing was pretty focused, & it was not just one of those evening strolls. We took the short cut & were walking in medium pace, occasionally talking.
Suddenly, we were intercepted by a young man approaching from the other end of the semi-dark, narrow shortcut lane.
He was of medium height, had a thin frame, curly hair & half shaven cheeks.
He was carrying an immensely big bag in either hand, which seemed heavy enough to slow down his walk.

"Pickles...?" He asked, softly, as he stopped in front of us, "Do you want to buy pickles?"
"No...wha...."we were both so taken by surprise, we had failed to respond in any way.
"Home-made ones..."he continued, "very tasty...all made by my mother...try the sweet lime...or maybe the green mango"...while he spoke, he had put down the bags & started taking out little & big bottles from them. As his confidence of being able to sell his condiments to us began to rise, me & ma started to mumble soft protests, which he seemed to not hear at all. He was going on suggesting different flavours & taking out bottles, even made me hold one or two, when I finally summed up the vocal strength to say,
"No, thank you"....
"You have to taste one of these, miss"...he smiled at me, visibly a little upset smile, "they are all made with poppy paste, very tasty...I sell to so many people in this area & all over the city...I also sell to filmstars, you know!"
"Umm..yes I know..." I replied, "they must be very very good, but I don't need it right now!"
And then I stopped all of a sudden, for a little incident that had happened exactly a year back from that evening flashed across my mind!
"Okay..."I said slowly, "let's sample a sweet mango pickle...."
"We have pickles at home!" ma whispered, "why are you buying again?"
"I guess this will be good to taste!" I replied, smiling, "you will like it."

Secretly, I knew he had charged us a tad higher than the market rates. But I never mentioned that even to my own self, for I was not only buying pickles here...I was keeping a long forgotten promise!

Me and Kausik had planned to buy takeaway from Mirch Masala, the best known Indian restaurant in South Kolkata, and take it back to Salt Lake to dine with my parents in law.
As we took the food packets from the take away counter & proceeded towards our car, we saw this thin young man coming towards us. He intercepted us, exactly the way he had done today, & asked,
"Pickles? will you buy good home-made pickles?" It was already 9.30pm, and we had to drive back a whole 14 kilometers & eat dinner. Understandably, we had no time, I felt irritated.
"No thanks!" I blurted & continued walking.
"You wont?" the man had said, & added, "okay, so will you buy it next time?"
"Yes I will." I replied without thinking much, & we walked away from each other.

And then I stopped & looked at Kausik,
"How will I buy his pickles next time? where will I meet him?"
His last sentence had a deep lasting impression on me. We had both noticed the look in his eyes. For a man with his kind of tattered clothes & hard life, he had eyes like a saint. He had an amount of poetry in his eyes, a faraway look, as if he really didnt belong here, as if all this selling he was doing had not touched his soul.....he was just passing time while waiting to take his flight of passion....

I felt guilty of having made a false promise, which I knew was almost impossible to fulfill.

But today I was very happy. My guilt was gone. As he handed me the bottle & walked away from me, I resumed my walk towards the mall with a smile on my face.

Ethereal Roshan....

The Pink Cake

"How much is this cake for?" a rugged, semi-nervous voice caught our attention as we were biting into our cream rolls & wondering if we had done the right thing by ordering these half dry, half stale sweets.
The shop in North Kolkata wasnt anything to write home about, one of those roadside pastry & cake shops which offered good looking but pathetic to taste food, but me & kausik were so hungry after buying his medical equipments & walking for quite a while, that we didnt think twice before going in.

Until then, we were the only buyers & as we looked backwards to figure out who was buying one of those sugar laden cakes, we saw a short, thin man, dressed in a shirt & trousers just above what we call rags, a big sack like bag hanging over his shoulders, pointing at a 2 pound birthday cake which was while & yellow in color.
"180/-"...the young man in charge of the counter replied. His tone already reflected a sense of disrespect towards the person, as if, the potential of this man as a buyer seemed remote to him. Watching the man for a few seconds, he asked, "should I pack it?"

"180/-" he mumbled, as if to himself...then he pushed his dirty right hand inside his half torn trouser pocket. I watched in sympathy as he pulled out a crumpled 100/- rupee note & bundled it up in his fingers. A little aloud, he said, "No...no...I want a pink cake....a pink cake"....

"This one is pink"...the young man said, his tone a little softer upon seeing the money. He was pointing at a smaller cake, 120/- rupees worth, strawberry flavored so it was pink in color. The man kept crumpling the note in his sweaty hand, & looked carefully at the second option. Before he could react, I pointed out at another cake, which was 98/- rupees worth, pink & white in color, & said, "that one is pink too!"
I felt happy that he could buy a pink cake well within his budget....or so it seemed.

He didnt react. He kept on looking at all the cakes, kept on thinking, all the while toying with the 100/- rupee note. And then he looked at all three of us, who were waiting with bated breath to see which one he would pick. Looking very confident, he said to no one in particular, "I will ask & come back!"
Before we could even flip an eyelid, he had turned & left the shop.
A brief silence followed, & then the young counter boy said, "he will never come back!"

We were in that shop for another few minutes, until we finished the cream rolls & paid for them, & each second I hoped he would come back. I secretly made up my mind about giving him 20 bucks so he could buy the cake that was totally pink, & I also began worrying he wouldnt accept that.
But he didnt come back till the time we left.

To date, when I have few blank moments, that half nervous voice rings in my ears. If I cross paths with him ever again, I will not recognise him at all. But his body language, the crumpling of the money in his right hand fingers, his half torn clohes, his oversized sack....keep coming back to me & I keep wondering if he really came back for the pink cake?

Was his son or daughter...I like to think it is a girl since pink is by far a girly choice....unhappy on her birthday? Did she weep a lot when she saw her father came home without the pink cake she wanted to cut? Did he make up an excuse or tell her the blatant truth? What did they eat for her birthday dinner? Could he buy her a new dress?

I wish...oh how I wish he did come back to get the cake.
And yes, I pray to God, that I am able buy the pink cake when my baby wants one....and if I can...I thank God much more than I would ever do otherwise......
THANK GOD.....

MY dogs...

 

My Cozy was born on 7th September, 1996, at our Dover Place home in Kolkata. Her mother Suzie was a beautiful lady & gave birth to 6 adorable pups....Cozy was the tiniest, weakest & last of all. The vet detected major health issues in her & gave her a maximum of 2-3 years to live. 

My lovely girl is touching 15 now, gone slow, has poor eyesight, but she is the first one to greet me when I get back home, staggering upto the stairs & looking at me as I climb them, wagging her slim tail vigorously & her expression always looks like a broad smile. 

 

Until I had my baby last year, she used to share my bed. Now she sleeps on a divan right next to our bed, & I love to get up in the middle of the night & bend over to catch a glimpse of her, fast asleep. She is amazing, & she will be my last pet ever. I cannot imagine having any other pet after her. the loss of her mom in 2006 was sort of made up by Cozy's bouncing presence all over the house.
I regret not being able to devote much of my leisure time to her...now that my boy is growing up, but I love the way we are present in the same room, & glancing at her every now & then.
I wish her a longer, healthy life.
God bless her.

begun rather late....

Being a first time mom at age 33 is late, is it? At times I wish I chose family quicker than I did. I married at 30. Actually, found the right guy at 28. In 3 yrs of marriage, our total conjugal stay was not more than 6 months, so I never got enough of him.
When I conceived, it was a bold step. We both were until then weighing pros & cons, used to a kind of life...and not sure if we were ready for a major pin-head turn in life!!! And then I stopped thinking & went for it. I remember when I reached home with a "positive" report in hand that evening, & amidst all family members, nodded at hubby, his first reaction was a huge, gaping mouth & a whisper sounding like "Oh No!!!"

I was mostly without him all thru my conception months. worked until just one week was left of the D day, & then they cut me open & gifted me a tiny pink and visibly annoyed creature in the OT, mouth wide open & about to cry. I loved it.

Enjoyed 98% of the past 15 months....the remaining 2% wasn't that great, I may say, very demanding & drained me of all energy....but I still wish I began earlier!