THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 21): OBLIVION

As time flies by and my ailment advances, a fear, a hidden anxiety has begun to grip my mind. There are so many things I want to remember. There are so many incidences, so many people, so many experiences, so many emotions that I really want to remember after my amnesia overwhelms my existence. However, I find that many of these memories are already forgotten. Is it because of my amnesia or simply a natural oblivion? I don’t know. Yet, the anxiety keeps mounting! Just as I was trying to find a way to cope up with this turmoil, something happened… something really wonderful. I met Dr. Prabhakar!

My doctor referred me to Dr. Prabhakar a couple of days ago. Dr. Prabhakar is a psychiatrist and lives a couple of blocks away from my house. Looking at the mounting anxiety level, my doctor felt that I needed professional support and suggested his name to me. The first phrase that came to my mind when I heard his name was, “I am not going mad! Why do I need to visit a psychiatrist? I am not a mental patient by any measure!”

I expressed my irritation and reluctance to my doctor but he insisted with the words, “Just go and meet him casually. I personally recommend this to you. Trust me, your anxiety will vanish in no time!”

With an unwilling mindset, I decided to visit Dr. Prabhakar on a Sunday. Yesterday I got an opportune time and went to his house around 11 AM. As I arrived, the first thing that grasped my imagination was the subtle serenity of the house. The two-storeyed house looked like a mini bungalow. The white color of the walls radiated an aura of happiness and cheer and my first impression slowly began to become positive. I walked up to the gate and knocked on the door. A housekeeper let me inside and made me sit on the sofa. Within a few moments, Dr. Prabhakar arrived from another room. He was about six feet tall, moderately fair complexioned, thin and athletic in body built and wore a stubble around his chin. Even through the rimless glasses of his spectacles, I could see his large, bright and expressive eyes.

Dr. Prabhakar had a personality that carried an equal charisma in his character, just like the serene house, that clicked a positive note in my heart. I felt comfortable in his presence and the initial introduction made me at ease even more.

I poured out my heart to him and revealed the innermost causes of my present anxiety. I asked eagerly, “I want to remember so many things. But when I try to write them down, I find that there are so many things that I have completely forgotten! Sir, I cannot control this anxiety. What should I do?”

Dr. Prabhakar replied, “Mr. Pravin, first come with me please. I want you to meet somebody.”

I followed him and we went into an adjacent room. It was a pretty spacious room with large windows ushering in the bright sunlight. At one corner sat a frail old lady on a wheelchair. A nurse was standing beside her while she stared outside the window. Hearing our footsteps, the old lady looked at us. There was a tranquil smile on her face and she waved lightly at us and then looked back at the window again.

“Mr. Pravin, she is my mother. At the age of 88 years, she is completely at peace. But, do you know why?” asked Dr. Prabhakar, as we went back to the living room and sat on the sofa.

I didn’t know what to say. Dr. Prabhakar continued, “Most of her memory is gone. It is a natural progression with age. She has seen many calamities, many hardships, many deaths, many sorrows. However, peace and tranquility is her biggest gift now. And this is the gift of OBLIVION.”

I was slowly digesting the discourse while Dr. Prabhakar spoke, “Mr. Pravin, the human brain is not just trained to remember… it is also trained to forget!”

I smiled on hearing his words and Dr. Prabhakar continued further, “We should not, rather we must not remember everything! That would be so painful. Can you imagine how painful it would be if we remember every incidence when we got hurt, or felt pain? How miserable it would be if every time we try to write something, we remember how we first learnt to while letters of the alphabet. Think, how sad it would be if the grief of losing a loved-one is not washed away with time. Life would be a mess then! OBLIVION is a bliss… it is a gift of GOD that helps us to be happy!”

I said, “Your words are very true Dr. Prabhakar. I think I understand what you are hinting towards.”

Dr. Prabhakar touched my hands softly and said, “Mr. Pravin… Be happy that you have forgotten some things. It is best to forget some things. That is how Mother Nature has created us. Your inner soul would make you remember what needs to be remembered. You note that down in your journal, and let go of the rest. Cherish this gift of forgetting… this will keep you happy!”

I came back home with a heart that was free of the burden which was building up for the past couple of days. I understood, I understand and I am really delighted that I met Dr. Prabhakar. Truly, OBLIVION is a bliss and my diary is a true reflection of who I am.

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 20): BITTER GOURD

Bitterness is evil. Bitterness leaves a negative impression. Yet, in life, bitterness is necessary too. It is a resident evil in all our lives that is so very indispensable. Just as my disease, my amnesia, is trying to overcome my entire existence, a bitterness often starts to cloud my mind. In such a situation, one incidence flashed across my eyes and I wanted to note it down here in my journal.

Mr. Samir Mukherjee was Baba’s college friend. He used to live in Kolkata along with his wife, Archana aunty. Samir uncle was a lawyer by profession and used to practice as a public prosecutor in the Calcutta High Court. The incident happened when I was in class X and it left quite an impact on my adolescent mind.

One Sunday morning, as I was sitting with my studies after finishing breakfast, the doorbell rang. The ring was of an unusual duration than normal and I felt that somebody was at our doorstep with an anxious state of mind. Baba was in the living room and was reading the newspaper. Aunt Padma went ahead and unlocked the door. Like a gust of agile monsoon breeze, Archana aunty entered. Maa came out of the kitchen and Baba kept aside the newspaper and stood up. The was a clear sign of anxiety on Archana aunty’s face as she stood with a big suitcase beside her. I came out from my study room and watched the entire episode unfold.

After the grimness of the sudden arrival cleared a bit, we all learnt from Archana aunty that Samir uncle had sent her to Mumbai, to stay with us for a couple of days, in order to avoid a crisis that was prevalent in their lives. The suddenness of the situation was such that it was not possible for them to inform us previously, and Archana aunty took the morning flight from Kolkata to Mumbai and arrived.

“He is involved in a dirty case!” said Archana aunty while drinking from a glass of water. “He has taken up the defense case of a serial murderer in the Calcutta High Court. The entire newspaper media and the electronic media has been harrowing us ever since! Even the general public has labelled him as an evil lawyer! No other public prosecutor agreed to take up the defense case and finally Samir agreed to do so. The public emotion is strongly in favor of the capital punishment and Samir is fighting in favor of the criminal, on behalf of the court of law. Everybody, including our relatives and friends, have suddenly taken a negative view about us. They have labelled Samir as a traitor to the country and democracy! Considering the looming danger of a public outrage, Samir has sent me here till the case clears!”

All of us listened to the discourse with full concentration and consoled Archana aunty. She was very worried about the safety of Samir uncle. Baba made a few phone calls and even spoke with Samir uncle over a long-distance telephonic conversation, while taking stock of the current situation. I could not find any reason for this behavior of Samir uncle. Why did he have to represent the evil criminal? Why did he choose to work in favor of somebody whom the entire world abhors! Why did Samir uncle need to support a felonious person and bring upon such bitterness? Yet, I could not find any suitable answer. Days passed, as we keenly followed the proceedings of the case. A sense of bitterness grasped out house. Everybody held a gloomy face while Archana aunty remained in a state of complete trauma and fear of something bad that might befall. Baba, tried his best to convince Samir uncle out of the case, but failed. Baba pleaded him to remain safe and get out from any upcoming troubles. After a total of one month, the Calcutta High Court declared its decision and announced the criminal as guilty! Unknown to us, Samir uncle gave a striking interview in the local newspaper, and as a result, the negative public emotion cleared quite somewhat. In the next four days, Samir uncle was in Mumbai and sitting with us happily.

On the day of his arrival, Samir uncle smiled at Archana aunty and said, “Archana, I am famished! I have missed the excellence of your cookery for so long! Please treat all of us with a fantastic Bengali lunch this afternoon! And please include my favorite SHUKTO recipe in it positively!”

Baba and I were sitting with Samir uncle in the living-room. I asked, “What is this SHUKTO? Is it a specific delicacy?”

Samir uncle only replied, “Pravin, wait till you taste it. I am sure you would love it.”

As we sat or lunch, Archana aunty first served steamed rice and SHUKTO. It was the first time I tasted SHUKTO, a mixture of bitter sweet medley of vegetables that was cooked in a unique manner! The recipe holds its origin in the old Portuguese culture and has evolved ever since its incorporation in the Bengali cuisine.

As we savored our lunch, Samir uncle asked, “This Bengali style recipe, SHUKTO, is an appeasing rustic curry which clears your palate! Can you perceive the taste of the BITTER GOURD amid the vegetables?”

I nodded my head while gobbling my food. Baba’s eyes sparkled in anticipation of what his dear friend was about to say. Maa, Aunty Padma and Archana aunty looked at Samir uncle while he started again, “The bitter taste of BITTER GOURD in the SHUKTO is not meant to spoil the taste of this fantastic recipe. It is this bitterness that alleviates the beauty of the entire curry and makes the recipe more palatable and unforgettable. Without BITTER GOURD, the SHUKTO is incomplete!”

Baba smiled, as if he understood what Samir uncle was hinting towards. I listened keenly to his words as Samir uncle continued, “Bitterness is important in life. It is important because, the absence of bitterness would eliminate the taste of sweetness! Since there is something bitter, we can appreciate whatever is sweet. This is the sole reason why I chose to become the public prosecutor in favor of the criminal. Even though the entire media criticized me for my choice, I remained firm in my decision.”

Archana aunty watched her husband with eyes full of emotion as Samir uncle spoke, “If nobody represented evil, nobody highlighted the negativity, how would have anybody proved the righteousness? How would the defense lawyer prove the guilt? The more I fought, the more I defended the criminal, the more easily justice was meted out. I didn’t believe or support the crime, I highlighted it. Bringing out the bitterness in front of everybody, helped me prove the severity of the crime!”

Samir uncle finished, “Trust me, bitterness is important in life and my decision was not wrong. The entire news media now understands my decision. So, my dear Archana, we can happily go back home!”

Even though it is an old story, the metaphor of BITTER GOURD in SHUKTO still remains so relevant. Indeed, the absence of bitterness in life will devoid us of the beauty of sweetness.  The sweetness that life and the entire world carries around us is far more than my pain. Perhaps, the bitterness of my amnesia is a necessary evil that enables me to appreciate the beauty of life and love it even more!

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 19): PIGS AND ROSES

In the early part of my youth, like every fledgling youth, I too aspired to become an explorer and wished to traverse the wide world, away from home. Then I leant about Pigs and Roses! Yes, weird as it might sound, the phrase carries a message that moved me to the core and I must note it down here in this journal. There are so many simple realizations in life that come so unexpectedly, yet their placement is just perfect to share our lives. So did the Pigs and Roses!

After I completed my first job, I got totally engrossed in the daily duties so that it drained me out of all my energies. I sincerely needed a holiday and an urge to break free from the monotony grasped me! I told Baba, “I want to break away from this monotony of life! Baba, I want to become an explorer, I want to see the wide world and not remain caged within the four walls of my office cubicle!”

The result was a complete surprise. Baba arranged for a fully sponsored solo vacation for me to the exciting hills of Shillong and the adjacent Kaziranga National Park! Shillong is a hill station in northeast India and capital of the state of Meghalaya. It’s known for the manicured gardens and beautiful mountains that come alive with the abundance of flora and fauna. Spread across the floodplains of the Brahmaputra River, Kaziranga forests, wetlands and grasslands are home to tigers, elephants and the world’s largest population of Indian one-horned rhinoceroses.

I was floored by the gesture and looked at Baba. He only said, “Go ahead son. Go and see the wide world. And what can be a better place to start than this picturesque journey I have booked for you!”

I took a leave for seven days and started my trip. Before leaving, I told Maa and Aunt Padma that I wanted to take up the career of “Travel Writer” and would soon begin my quest for taking it up professionally. Mumbai was not the only place I wished to live in. I wanted to spend the prime of my life hunting for adventure, before settling down within the peaceful quarters of home again! The two ladies gave me scornful looks clubbed with a dash of melancholy while Baba smiled and winked at me, secretly.

The first three days were completely ethereal as I traversed through the wide and wild woods of the hills around Shillong. I visited emote places, watched enigmatic waterfalls, drank coconut water while sitting over a cliff, ate wild gooseberries and did whatever my heart desired. I was all alone, but my heart was filled with thrill. The gloom of office workload vanished completely.

On the fourth day I reached Kaziranga and checked into the “Wildlife Bungalow”, outside the main gate of the National Park. It was a decent hotel with a beautiful garden of roses right behind it. My room’s balcony overlooked the garden and I was happy about it. The next morning, early at dawn, I went on a guided tour within the forest and was totally ecstatic with the experience. After returning from the trip, I went over to the dining area for breakfast. The dining hall was adjacent to the garden and I occupied a small table on the patio for eating my breakfast. At a distance, the gardener, a young boy in his late teens, was working around a rose bush. I smiled at him and he responded back evenly.

I asked, “Hi, the rose garden is beautiful. What is your name?”

The young boy came near the patio, sat on the floor at a corner and replied, “My name is Suraj. I am the son of the gardener here. My Baba, Raghunath, is the official gardener here. He is not well today, so I am doing his job.”

“What do you do other than gardening Suraj?” I asked enthusiastically.

“I have completed my studies till matriculation. Now I shall assist my Baba and follow his footsteps!” answered Suraj.

“Don’t you want to take up higher studies? Why don’t you try for scholarship and relocate to the big cities? You can get good education there, learn and become more successful. You can see the wide world. Don’t you wish to do so?” I blurted.

Suraj looked at me momentarily and replied, “Sir, I do want to do everything that you mentioned, but then, don’t you know about Pigs and Roses?”

I want taken aback a bit by his weird words and asked, “What is that? What do you mean?”

Suraj pointed his finger towards the far end of the garden and my eyes followed it. A pig was fiddling with a rose bush and I was perplexed about what Suraj wanted to say. He continued, “Sir, look at that pig and look at that rose! Everything that you said about seeing the wide world and relocating to the big city… is like that ROSE! Our lives and dreams are like the ROSES with their beautiful colors and fragrance.”

I listened silently while Suraj continued, “And, I and like that PIG! What is the pig doing? What can a pig do? The beauty of the roses and their fragrances are immaterial to the pigs! It will simply eat the roses!”

I was speechless on realizing what Suraj was saying so simply, “Pursuing the dream you say, I would become the pig! I would simply eat the roses…”

Saying this, Suraj took leave and went away quickly to finish his work. Yet, the magnanimity of his words kept echoing around the chambers of my heart! His simple words were so true. They were so much valid for me as well. All this while I had been chasing a dream to leave my family behind and becoming a vagabond. What would I become? A PIG! And eat up the ROSES, the beautiful family that god had given me! I would waste the valuable time that I can spend with Baba, Maa and Aunt Padma. They are the real roses of my life, and I cannot eat this gift up like the pig.

I returned back from my vacation, joined office and my work with a rejuvenated energy. One evening I related the story of PIGS and ROSES to Baba and he said, “Son, you have learnt a great lesson in life. Never forget this story and whenever you get distracted, simply remember the simple words of Suraj and they would give you back your energy.”

Indeed, Pigs and Roses taught me how beautiful life is and I shall always remember it.