My Experience in an Amreecan Village Part 3 : There is water in the kitchen.

Thursday morning I wake up an hour early than usual thanks to my roommate's "Aaaiyaa. C. Wake Up. WAKE UP !" As it is I am having a little trouble adjusting to all this day-light saving thing. My body does not know that 7 AM is now actually 8 AM.  That is another thing about this country. DSL. Sun goes down at 8 PM now. Crazy !! Anyways. Back to the topic at hand. I wake up to "Aaaiyaa. C. Wake Up. WAKE UP !"

I get out of my room rubbing my eyes and see that she is in one piece. A few hair out of place. But then she was sleeping. I was expecting atleast a few horrible cuts. Otherwise waking me up at 7:30 AM in the morning(which is technically 6:30 AM) is just cruel. I try to make sense of the situation and ask her as politely as I can manage " What the?? Are you ok?? Why were you screaming?" She points to the general direction of the Kitchen and says " There is water in the kitchen". At this point I am thinking "Ofcourse there is water in the kitchen. That is where we keep our Brita fliter jug." So I try again(politely) and this time I use the ever expressive "Huh ?" (which reflected my innermost feeling of concern that she might have lost her marbles). She points again towards the kitchen and tells me "Just go look.Please."

It is 7:30 AM in the morning(which is technically 6:30 AM)and I was not wearing my glasses and I was wearing my favourite fluffy pink socks. I step into the kitchen and immediately freeze. Out of shock yes. But also because I was ankle deep in freezing cold water. Inside the kitchen. I look at PNT (the roommate) and say "There is water in the kitchen." She replies "I know."

At this point we wake up our third roommate. PHS comes out. She is unusually calm as if finding freezing water in the kitchen is a regular affair! She tells me to call the maintainance emergency number.  Every thing she is telling me I only assimilate half of it. Because I am barely awake. I get rid of my pink fluffy socks and call the maintainance guy.

There is a knock on the door exactly after 15 minutes. I open the door and the 6 foot 6 inch Mike is standing there. He smiles and says "You girls have a situation at hand it seems." And then there is a mini invasion. A very efficient mini invasion. Mike and I dont know her name but let us call her Molly works efficiently. They know what to do. They don't want any help. And they clean everything. The entire kitchen. Including carpets.They actually secretly make me slightly grateful that our Kitchen was flooding

I could even get ready for work. It was only when me and PNK were leaving that I went over to Mike and asked him if he needed something because we were all leaving. He said "OK." Then it occured to him and he asked "Are you all leaving?" I said "Yes" He just said that he needed to leave the blower inside so that our place dries up and might come in later to move it to the hall. And then he smiled and said "Have a nice day girls"

The blower is still sitting in our hall. Because our hall is still wet. It is nice having it there actually. Standing and opening the keys of the door feels like a mini Bollywood movie. With your hair blowing and your skirt flowing.

Happy Holi 2015

Holi, the festival of colours. Spring to me, like most Indian begins with Holi. So Holi literally brings colour, not only in the form of "abir" and "rong" but in nature, our smiles, our feelings and our very lives

Last year I was at a friend of a friend's rooftop near Golpark. The previous night the four of us, PB1, KB and SB stayed over at 22. We ate chinese from Mandarin and PB1's special "Death By Chocolate Brownie" which was laced with something more than chocolate. ( READ LOVE). On the day of Holi, we got ourselves some colours, called over RB(KB's brother) begged him to be our driver and ended up in the friend of a friends rooftop. There was an open house(rooftop?) Holi Party. There was every possible arrangements that a Holi party might need. Food, bhaang, sweets and ofcourse colours. PB1 and SB refused to play colours but the rest of us went upstairs and proceeded to drench ourselves with colours, smearing each other's faces and then comparing who looks the most colourful(read unrecognizable). It was the first Holi I forced myself to celebrate after almost two years. The previous two years were not the best for me and I did not feel particularly celebratory. And I had an inkling that I will not be around for the next year.

And this year, my Holi was white and grey. It snowed here. So the weather and me are both a little glum. Everyone is hoping that this is the last snow of the season and soon there will be spring.While most people here are asking each other "When will Spring come ?" I am reminded of  that famous line by Gabbar Singh "Holi kab hai ? Kab hai Holi ?? "

Kolkata : Is it my city anymore?

There is not a second passed in this village that I do not think of Kolkata. To me Kolkata is a living, breathing, growing entity. A part of me. Kolkata is mine. It makes me feel at home. But is this city really mine anymore ?

Sitting at a late night diner on Sunday night I read two very upsetting news.

1. BBC took an interview of the Nirbhaya rapists. And they, without any sign of remorse states that it obviously always is the victims fault. I do not think I was surprised. The fact that I was not surprised was what bothered me. A lot of people's reaction I gauged was that of outrage as to why BBC even interviewed these creatures ( I do not find it in me to call these humans. ) To me the interview was necessary. It proves that monsters do not repent. And right now there are a million of men who are thinking the exact same thing. That it is infact the girls fault. Our country does not know how to protect their women. And it is true.

2.The second was much closer home. My cousin was harassed in the middle of Rashbehari Avenue at 10:30 on Sunday night. I am putting her exact words here.

" Ei sahar take nijer sahar bole bhabte khub lajja lagche ajke...Time raat 10:30 Rashbehari Avenue .... Saharer byasto tomo rasta gulir modhye ekta...
Metro theke neme wait korchi behalar gari pawar jonyo... Onyodiner tulanay janbahon kom seta hoy robibar bole noyto biyebarir season bole... Ekti Otyonto obhodro lok... Pichone theke eshe nongra katha o akar ingit korte laglo.... Bolai bahulya j tini prokitistho chilen naa..ei nongrami chollo pray 5 minute....chitkar kore protibaad korate ashe pasher kichu lok moja dekhlen thik e kintu ekjon o egiye elen na sahajya korte... Thik jani na era ki nitantoi ekta bicchinno ghatana... Naki etai ajkal swabhabik byapar...
Jaihok amar bhagya sahay j ami loktike tariye okkhoto obosthay bari firechi... Kintu sabar bhagya eto ta sahay na o hote pare...
Tomader sabbaike ghatanate jananor uddwesho .... Sabai sabdhan... Kolkata kintu khub unsafe hoye geche..."


After knowing about this my first reaction was anger. How dare the man ?

But then I remembered something an NRI Bengali man I met randomly at a movie theatre, of about 40 told me when I was whining about how much I miss my city and how much I want to go back.

He asked me with a smile. " Are you sure the city is yours ? A city where a female Chief Minister punishes by transferring a female Police Officer because the Police Officer went out of her way to catch the rapists of a shameful rape in the middle of the city is pretty much sending out a clear signal to the women of the city that they are not needed."

I could give him no good answer. Because no matter how much I try to defend my city the city has done nothing to protect her women. And right then, sitting at a diner seven seas away in a small sleepy town at 11:30 pm at night, I was feeling completely safe. Yes I had my friend with me. But the truth is even if i did not have my friend with me in there, I would have felt safe. I knew I could call a cab and that would pretty much ensure that I reach home safe. The cabs are constantly monitored by police radios. And there are police cars at the darkest nooks and alleyways patrolling. And at the same time even if my friend was there with me sitting at Hobby Centre in Park Street at 11:30 at night and I had to go back home in a cab, I would feel unsafe and nervous in my own city. Or maybe the city truly is not mine anymore.