Gripper Drawing Board Clip Unbreakable 4 pcs.

My first lesson

I am travelling in Patna Rajdhani, holding on to this small box. The box had already turned into an artifact. Pretty similar to a fossil. Pressed, torn, off-colored. Why not? It had been more than 9 years when the tryst began. One face of the paper box had all these words in the title cluttered in the most non-fashionable way and that too on a pink background. But the other side restored the golden letters “C D E G A B”. Never imagined that these seven letters will be so important in my life.

Flashes from a 9 year old Frame:

“Dude! Royal Stag Magic Moments. Shanker Ehsan Loy are coming to City Center”. In an hour decisions made and we were bunking classes to listen to them in Salt Lake, Kolkata. 

Both Kishalay and me reached the venue unusually before the time.

Present:

My ipod is pretty intelligent and it understands my mood even better than myself. Now when I am not in a mode to listen to Guetta or Eluveitie or Amon Amarth, its playing “Bezuban” from Piku, “Piu Bole” from Parineeta. (Come on ..my mind was in Kolkata. So it definitely ought to play some odd bong songs). I was travelling even faster than Rajdhani and that too away from rajdhani towards my loving city, Kolkata. I don’t know, may be after a killer thriller scene of “How Kinjal will catch the train” his nerves wanted to sooth in some beautiful reminiscence.

Flashes from a 9 year old Frame:

“Dude. He sounds exactly the same as he sounds in the movies.” Kishalay whispered in my ears restraining himself in the permissible range of frequency which he was allowed. “Whats the next Karaoke?” I asked anxiously of the fact that if some sweet oldy comes up which I am comfortable with I will try to muster all my courage to share the stage with the star triads and sing a few lines. What can be a better experience than this?

“Chookar mere mann ko is the next song. And who will love to sing this one with a little help from none other than Shanker Mahadevan?” the emcee shouted in the most ecstatic way.

“Go fucker. You will never get a better chance than this” I got a terrible push from Kishalay.

Familiarity

The morning seemed extremely familiar. Standing under the running shower, the struggle to reach my upper back and clean them was familiarly difficult. So was the feeling when I boarded the metro for my office. I was holding the complete work of Kafka, as I had been doing for the entire last month. But somehow today I was feeling pretty hollow from inside. I stood at the corner of the sliding door of the metro. A small kid was ambling very cutely holding her mother’s legs who was sitting on the crowded bench. All of a sudden the kid started walking. Snuggling through the forests of legs in the crowded metro he arrived to me. With few small little fingers in her mouth she stared at me with those clear watery eyes. She seemed to have stumbled with all grave awkwardness as if an alien creature is standing in front of her. I was already feeling quite hollow. Now I was even pushed further more to the space of my uncomfortable self. Surreptitiously, the inner struggle floated up again.

I started nagging as usual. Am I doing something meaningful? Am I doing what I am liking? Am I liking what I am doing? All these useless questions started flying around.

The metro reached Kirti Nagar where I was supposed to get down. Surprising the kid with her mom was about to get down on the same station. She was holding her fingers and crying. I wished my mom was here. I wanted to cry holding my mom’s fingers.

I hired an auto rickshaw and reached office with the familiar hollowness.

Tring!!! Tring!!! “INR xx,xxx.00 deposited to A/c No xx8702 towards NEFT Cr-UTIB000***-xxxxxxxx-Kinjal Roy AXTB161768739092 VAL 02_MAY-16. Clr Bal is INR x,xx,xxx.15 subject to clearing.” Ohh!! It was my salary day!!!

Welcome back Mr.Roy!!. Welcome to the NECROPOLIS!!!

NB: Last night I was shopping at a mall with a girl I met on a popular dating App. After I left her, I took a hand pulled rickshaw back to my place.