On my way to picnic
Eight months in to retirement and life had been so busy that we had no free time to sit and ponder about it. One fine morning my husband Swapan called me from market and told me that he was bringing a surprise guest home. Okay, said I, thinking who it could be. Although we knew few people around here, no one exciting had cropped up so far besides the constant flow of relatives who had found out that we were free and available at our family home after years of living away from home. So, I was wondering who the surprise guest could be.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang. I opened the door and it was Swapan's classmate and best friend from college days, Tushar. The familiar cheerful round chubby face with an inquisitive young boy's naughty twinkle in his eye. I had met him and his wife a few times before. I looked at Swapan, his face was beaming (as if he had met Santa. Every one has their personal Santa. One look at Swapan's face and I could tell that Tushar had definitely been Santa at some stage in his life.) like a child who had met his favourite character from popular comics.
I smiled at both of them. After formal greetings and gentle enquiries about health whereabouts of his family went in to make tea. Couple of minutes later I could hear them getting in to a frenzied conversation about their other friends, college mates, room partners, professors and even the cooks and other staff at the campus. Tushar had always stayed in the same town so obviously he knew much more. In between Swapan had called me to make some snacks with the tea. I gave him an admonishing look, didn't I have common sense? But he looked away quickly not wanting to be distracted.
After two rounds of tea and an hour of heated personal, political and social discussion I decided to barge in. The two flushed faces looked like they had fun collecting shells on sea shore. It took them quite a few minutes to register my presence. Swapan looked at me," you know my college has a very active alumni here....they all are going for picnic next Saturday....same place by Ganga where we had gone from hostel forty years back...Tushar and his wife are going, Prabir and his wife too..." And he paused, looked at me, " Tushar was asking if we would be interested....I already told him we have many commitments..." I could see where it was going. That night I told him we could join the picnic next Saturday as we did not have anything scheduled for that day. "No no, you will get bored, no company..." I assured him that I would be fine and moreover two of his friends wife would be there. So, it was decided. He wanted to call his friends right away but a look at the clock and he decided otherwise. I went to sleep suppressing my smile.
Next day he went to their office with Tushar, got a membership and paid money for the picnic. Next few days were busy for me but Saturday did hang on my head like a sword as all our discussions would end with that topic. Finally the much awaited day arrived. We organised our stuff before going to bed checking all the alarm clocks so that no mistake happens.
We rushed through morning and were ready by half an hour before the given time. Swapan was eager to leave, I told him even the organisers will not have reached by the time we get there. After few minutes of uneasy shifting feet he said, " lets go, or we will miss the bus." We reached the designated place. The roads were still little hazy with winter morning fog. No one in sight except some random vehicles and stray dogs. We stood there for few seconds then went around to check if the bus was parked some where else! But no, there was no sign of any bus. After waiting for about twenty minutes, a bus came and slowly people started to trickle in. All wrapped up in winter clothing, most of them aged, Men in jackets, mufflers, caps, ladies in sweaters and shawls over their fancy silk sarees. I felt little out of place in my churidar kurta till a few arrived dressed in similar outfits. It was almost an hour before everyone had arrived and the bus was ready to leave.
It got sunny slowly. The organisers had arranged for some snacks for the bus. As soon as the bus left, the snacks were distributed and people got really busy trying to balance their plates in a moving bus and eat simultaneously. Hot jalebis and samosa taste all the more yummy in winter. I tried to start a conversation with the two ladies sitting with me. Introducing myself with my first name I tried to find out theirs but the replies came in Mrs. This and Mrs. That. Had they totally forsaken the names they were born with, I wondered. They enquired about my in laws health, my parents and my kids. I reciprocated. And the conversation came to an end. It seemed as if we ladies had no personal life, no one wanted to know about our hobbies, likings or preferences.
By the time the bus touched highway, the lady sitting next to me started to doze off and the other one seemed deeply engrossed in the news paper she had brought in her big printed bag. What else was there in that huge bag! I looked out of window for a little while, the young boys playing football in an empty piece of land, cows grazing nearby, a few travellers waiting for their bus at a road side tea stall sipping tea from small paper cups with all their attention on the road. I did not know what to do for the next two hours. I looked inside for Myself, my constant dormant partner at such occasions, always by my side, never leaving me alone for a single moment. What would I do without you? Who would understand me, keep me company and answer my questions? Her reassuring smile soothed me. I chatted my heart out with her, shared the joy of looking at the boats floating in Ganga, the kites flying in sky from near by houses and so many other country side visuals that were rarely seen in cities.
The bus had reached the picnic spot I thanked Myself and looked out. Time to get down, socialise, eat, play games and get to know more people. Swapan came out of the bus with his friends looking happy. Not wanting to be left out I adorned my face with a friendly smile and mixed in the chattering crowd hoping to enjoy the day to its fullest!
Twenty minutes later the bell rang. I opened the door and it was Swapan's classmate and best friend from college days, Tushar. The familiar cheerful round chubby face with an inquisitive young boy's naughty twinkle in his eye. I had met him and his wife a few times before. I looked at Swapan, his face was beaming (as if he had met Santa. Every one has their personal Santa. One look at Swapan's face and I could tell that Tushar had definitely been Santa at some stage in his life.) like a child who had met his favourite character from popular comics.
I smiled at both of them. After formal greetings and gentle enquiries about health whereabouts of his family went in to make tea. Couple of minutes later I could hear them getting in to a frenzied conversation about their other friends, college mates, room partners, professors and even the cooks and other staff at the campus. Tushar had always stayed in the same town so obviously he knew much more. In between Swapan had called me to make some snacks with the tea. I gave him an admonishing look, didn't I have common sense? But he looked away quickly not wanting to be distracted.
After two rounds of tea and an hour of heated personal, political and social discussion I decided to barge in. The two flushed faces looked like they had fun collecting shells on sea shore. It took them quite a few minutes to register my presence. Swapan looked at me," you know my college has a very active alumni here....they all are going for picnic next Saturday....same place by Ganga where we had gone from hostel forty years back...Tushar and his wife are going, Prabir and his wife too..." And he paused, looked at me, " Tushar was asking if we would be interested....I already told him we have many commitments..." I could see where it was going. That night I told him we could join the picnic next Saturday as we did not have anything scheduled for that day. "No no, you will get bored, no company..." I assured him that I would be fine and moreover two of his friends wife would be there. So, it was decided. He wanted to call his friends right away but a look at the clock and he decided otherwise. I went to sleep suppressing my smile.
Next day he went to their office with Tushar, got a membership and paid money for the picnic. Next few days were busy for me but Saturday did hang on my head like a sword as all our discussions would end with that topic. Finally the much awaited day arrived. We organised our stuff before going to bed checking all the alarm clocks so that no mistake happens.
We rushed through morning and were ready by half an hour before the given time. Swapan was eager to leave, I told him even the organisers will not have reached by the time we get there. After few minutes of uneasy shifting feet he said, " lets go, or we will miss the bus." We reached the designated place. The roads were still little hazy with winter morning fog. No one in sight except some random vehicles and stray dogs. We stood there for few seconds then went around to check if the bus was parked some where else! But no, there was no sign of any bus. After waiting for about twenty minutes, a bus came and slowly people started to trickle in. All wrapped up in winter clothing, most of them aged, Men in jackets, mufflers, caps, ladies in sweaters and shawls over their fancy silk sarees. I felt little out of place in my churidar kurta till a few arrived dressed in similar outfits. It was almost an hour before everyone had arrived and the bus was ready to leave.
It got sunny slowly. The organisers had arranged for some snacks for the bus. As soon as the bus left, the snacks were distributed and people got really busy trying to balance their plates in a moving bus and eat simultaneously. Hot jalebis and samosa taste all the more yummy in winter. I tried to start a conversation with the two ladies sitting with me. Introducing myself with my first name I tried to find out theirs but the replies came in Mrs. This and Mrs. That. Had they totally forsaken the names they were born with, I wondered. They enquired about my in laws health, my parents and my kids. I reciprocated. And the conversation came to an end. It seemed as if we ladies had no personal life, no one wanted to know about our hobbies, likings or preferences.
By the time the bus touched highway, the lady sitting next to me started to doze off and the other one seemed deeply engrossed in the news paper she had brought in her big printed bag. What else was there in that huge bag! I looked out of window for a little while, the young boys playing football in an empty piece of land, cows grazing nearby, a few travellers waiting for their bus at a road side tea stall sipping tea from small paper cups with all their attention on the road. I did not know what to do for the next two hours. I looked inside for Myself, my constant dormant partner at such occasions, always by my side, never leaving me alone for a single moment. What would I do without you? Who would understand me, keep me company and answer my questions? Her reassuring smile soothed me. I chatted my heart out with her, shared the joy of looking at the boats floating in Ganga, the kites flying in sky from near by houses and so many other country side visuals that were rarely seen in cities.
The bus had reached the picnic spot I thanked Myself and looked out. Time to get down, socialise, eat, play games and get to know more people. Swapan came out of the bus with his friends looking happy. Not wanting to be left out I adorned my face with a friendly smile and mixed in the chattering crowd hoping to enjoy the day to its fullest!
posted by Neena Mukherjee @ 02:48
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