It has been quite long that I developed this uncanny habit of noticing people's behaviour when I do not have anything else to do!(Well,sans studies.I mean I hardly do it. :D). My huge balcony is somewhat like an undaunted watch tower in the middle of the forest and the animals roaming about here and there.
I dare say,it has been quite an experience! People truly are so very unique in their own little way,whether it's an apparently innocent kid having his first bicycle ride in the busy street or the old man lookin greedily all over the place.
But my eyes have not only been restrained to watching people pass by.I saw what I never really bothered to.Infact,what most of us do not bother to notice.
For instance,how many of us notice the gentle rustle of the leaves in the cool wind.The intricate pinnate of the leaves,weaving some kind of unusual greenery.The birds chirping(Yes,something so very rare these days) and jumping around from one branch to the another.
Anyway,coming back to people now.The last day(it must have been around eleven in the morining when I saw a middle aged man,probably in is early fifties.He had this powerful glasses that was partly hidden under his unruffled hair.He was skinny and was dressed in a typical "senior-citizen" "white-stripes-on-blue-my favourite-shirt".He got down from the rickshaw(Although I did not have any idea then where he was coming from) with quite a difficulty and barely managed to stay in his feet while picking up two of his suitcases;both of which were of again that typical grey colour.
Our house has a portico,the only one remaining in the town.The rickshawalas often rest underneath it.The arrival of an unknown rickshaw made their eyebrows to rise and the arrival of an unknown face in town as small as Muthal is pretty "I-want-to-know-who-that-man-is".We pretty much know most of the people of our town.
You could say Muthal was the borderline between rural and urban of the district.So,we had shades of both the cultures.We had an AC Shopping mall and as well as a granary.Muthal was the sub-divisional headquarters.So,it was frequented by many government officials(whose quarters stood brilliantly off The Ganges).And so it was for our new guest.Yes,guest.
I happened to run down the winding staris into the banquet hall and peeped behind from the tapestry stand.And,I accumulated the following data:
Name:Atul Tarafdar
Age:52
Occupation:Assistant to the Sub-Divisional Officer
Reason he was sitting on that chair:He is going to be my neighbour.We are going yo have a new tenant.He was renting the room beside mine for three years.
The room anyway, was unused since I shifted to this room now.The room was neatly made.The unused bed that was lying in the third floor was brought down.A book rack,a study and one almirah was also put in.The best part of my and now Atul Babu's room was that, it over looked out garden.So,we were most likely to be woken up by the chirping of the birds.
Atul Babu stepped in with a curious look in his eyes and have a give gleam in his experienced looking eyes and said "Ah! Eitah?. Besh Shundor"
Some day 5 years down the line......
The man looked over the lenses of his horn rimmed glasses and spoke with great elegance,"...and this is how Netaji fled from his house in Kolkata", and my sister,Anushka gave a sweet little smile.And next it was time for Atul Babu to play few Dylan songs in his Blues Harp. And,I would enter his room humming the lyrics.(This was pretty much usual for me). "Ah! Esho bosho. Pora holo?", he told.
Atul Babu would make a perfect gentleman to me. The one Satyajit Ray would dream of.
I dare say,it has been quite an experience! People truly are so very unique in their own little way,whether it's an apparently innocent kid having his first bicycle ride in the busy street or the old man lookin greedily all over the place.
But my eyes have not only been restrained to watching people pass by.I saw what I never really bothered to.Infact,what most of us do not bother to notice.
For instance,how many of us notice the gentle rustle of the leaves in the cool wind.The intricate pinnate of the leaves,weaving some kind of unusual greenery.The birds chirping(Yes,something so very rare these days) and jumping around from one branch to the another.
Anyway,coming back to people now.The last day(it must have been around eleven in the morining when I saw a middle aged man,probably in is early fifties.He had this powerful glasses that was partly hidden under his unruffled hair.He was skinny and was dressed in a typical "senior-citizen" "white-stripes-on-blue-my favourite-shirt".He got down from the rickshaw(Although I did not have any idea then where he was coming from) with quite a difficulty and barely managed to stay in his feet while picking up two of his suitcases;both of which were of again that typical grey colour.
Our house has a portico,the only one remaining in the town.The rickshawalas often rest underneath it.The arrival of an unknown rickshaw made their eyebrows to rise and the arrival of an unknown face in town as small as Muthal is pretty "I-want-to-know-who-that-man-is".We pretty much know most of the people of our town.
You could say Muthal was the borderline between rural and urban of the district.So,we had shades of both the cultures.We had an AC Shopping mall and as well as a granary.Muthal was the sub-divisional headquarters.So,it was frequented by many government officials(whose quarters stood brilliantly off The Ganges).And so it was for our new guest.Yes,guest.
I happened to run down the winding staris into the banquet hall and peeped behind from the tapestry stand.And,I accumulated the following data:
Name:Atul Tarafdar
Age:52
Occupation:Assistant to the Sub-Divisional Officer
Reason he was sitting on that chair:He is going to be my neighbour.We are going yo have a new tenant.He was renting the room beside mine for three years.
The room anyway, was unused since I shifted to this room now.The room was neatly made.The unused bed that was lying in the third floor was brought down.A book rack,a study and one almirah was also put in.The best part of my and now Atul Babu's room was that, it over looked out garden.So,we were most likely to be woken up by the chirping of the birds.
Atul Babu stepped in with a curious look in his eyes and have a give gleam in his experienced looking eyes and said "Ah! Eitah?. Besh Shundor"
Some day 5 years down the line......
The man looked over the lenses of his horn rimmed glasses and spoke with great elegance,"...and this is how Netaji fled from his house in Kolkata", and my sister,Anushka gave a sweet little smile.And next it was time for Atul Babu to play few Dylan songs in his Blues Harp. And,I would enter his room humming the lyrics.(This was pretty much usual for me). "Ah! Esho bosho. Pora holo?", he told.
Atul Babu would make a perfect gentleman to me. The one Satyajit Ray would dream of.
1 comment:
and what happened 5 years down the line? did he beget a daughter or a son? ..... Actually u spoke about the bed...quite allegorical... never mind but when u write the later part do remind me... i liked the blocks...it could be a nice building if u r lil sensitive to human beings than leaves..
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