I never considered New Alipore to be a part of Kolkata, if I am being honest. Through this long and drab life of mine, there has been only one occasion when I have visited the famous Suruchi Sangha during Durga Pujo. And I can count the number of times I have been to New Alipore and/or Behala in my life. The number boils down to 7. Life has changed drastically, in the last few months, and especially the last two weeks. As I pen this paragraph down (my 4th edit of the same), I have newfound respect for New Alipore, and a particular individual who resides there. I'll refer to her, with pronouns only, through the course of this piece; bear with me.
And after years, meeting someone has rejuvenated me, in such a way. I met this lovely woman last year, 2021, a couple months before Pujo, under professional circumstances, on a rainy late-afternoon. A strong personality, disciplined, intelligent with a sharp sense of humour. And apart from all of this, she looked gorgeous. When I did see her that day, I swooned a little. Her name, her demanding personality really stuck on. We connected over social media, with hardly any interaction over the year.
Anybody who knows me well enough, knows how much Anurag loves his garam chai! And on a breezy August evening, I plucked up enough courage to ask her if she'd like to have a cup. Of course, undecided as always, she picked the place. The best three hours of my life, I can call that evening. We talked, smiled, joked, laughed, smoked, laughed some more. Then, walking through the deserted half-empty streets we reached South City. The Pujo hubbub was building up at the time. As she was about to board an auto rickshaw I thrust my hand forward for a handshake after a hanging, awkward moment. We later discussed, a hug would have been fine. I had to call up Ankita and Amrita. I had to tell them, I was swooning. There were violins playing in my ear. I could not wipe off the image of the smile that her adorned her face, at any cost. Rather, I knew I had to protect that image, that memory, at any cost.
She went on a whirlwind trip to Bombay, and sent me a picture of her, from Mannat, my personal Meccah. And I had never felt happier. And we talked. We talked through days, through nights. Even during her work trip she would take out time for me, show me the amazing place where she was staying. She would make me feel valued, through just words in a chatbox.
It was exactly a month after we met, we found time to see each other again. Very stupidly, garbed with a lot of obscure jokes and stupid associations, I told her, I had taken a strong liking for her. And what is a good love story without some intermediate tragedies, right? I remember the exact moment, when the smile wiped off of her face, she looked down, and very solemnly informed me that she was emotionally unavailable. My insides felt like, someone had just grabbed and twisted my guts into a knot and curb-stomped my heart into a blob of pulp. Regardless, what I learnt was that sheer presence was magic. Because, just like the other time we met, we talked, smiled, joked, laughed, smoked, laughed some more. Then, walking through the deserted half-empty streets we reached South City. This time, she rode off to the distance in a cab. And this time I did manage to get a half-hug. I was devastated that evening. I have been a hopeless romantic, always. So, dramatically, I choose to walk back to my home. My two pillars of support, Amrita and Ankita, there, yet again, to talk to me, comfort me. A lot went inside my mind that evening. Amrita asked me, "What will you do now?" and I did not have an answer. I knew I wanted this amazing woman at some capacity in my life, and I decided to work on it.
You know what? When they say, teamwork makes the dream work, they ain't lying. It was the first day of the Coca Cola concert, and I know she was having major FOMO, as the Gen Z calls it. We weren't being able to talk like other days, because of signal jammers. It was then when she volunteered to tag along. My overenthusiastic friends were too quick to manage an extra entry band. I won't lie, was most enthusiastic about it, because let's face it, it's the woman you like, at a concert with you. The next day was magical in every sort of way. My shrewd and shameless friends made me strike the SRK pose for her, as Shankar Mahadevan crooned Pretty Woman, from Kal Ho Na Ho. Later on she told me, she had noticed how nervous I was around her. She noticed, around her, the flawless hook step dancer would mess up the moves. Just an example of how closely she has seen me over the weeks and months. I also got to see a sensitive side to her that day. It is something too personal to her, so I will refrain from sharing it here. All I know, I should have known to console her better. She needed a hug. Maybe even specifically from me. I knew she needed a hug. Maybe even specifically from me. I chose to not act up on those impulses. I dropped her home that night. And in all semblance, I told her, for the second time, I had taken a tremendous liking towards her. She asked me to not say it out load, as it is. I think she felt saying it out loud would make it real.
But, it gets as real as it can get. I did muster up the courage to ask her to meet me during Pujo. And if we are being honest here, folks, we met everyday but one, during the festivities. I made it a point to meet on Panchami, because seeing her would mean Pujo starts on a good note. I asked her if she would like to accompany me and my friends to our traditional Shoshthi Outing to North Kolkata. She was happy to oblige. And that was when I spent an entire day with her, amidst my friends. It was the second time she saw my friends, and I could immediately see a connection, there among all of them. At that point, I was happy to be an observant outsider, very happy to see where this was going. I was sure I had found a friend in her, and it was a beautiful feeling. Two incidents from Shoshthi stand out. When I got a concerning call while we were on a metro ride, her inquisitive gestures made me realise that she took notice of how I felt. Again, when a vaguely distressing message popped up on my phone, and I asked Souradeep to accompany me elsewhere to talk about it. She stood in my way till I told her my problem. And she chose to be a conscious part of a minuscule problem that I would surely overcome in a jiffy.
With a track record like that she was of course invited to the traditional Ashtami sleepover. Ashtami evening, she walked in at Ankita's place looking like a dream. After a fun evening at Maddox, this is where things get very fun, and very complicated. The sass, the sarcasm, wit and humour in this very tiny woman reaches the pinnacle when she has had enough gin, and has had her swabhimaan of being a Bangal mocked. Through the night, this chhota packet of energy puked and fought with Souradeep over him being a Ghoti. And that was when she slept and I patted her head, sitting beside her.
Now, I do not know if there is a god up there or not, but what happened then, made me believe in a higher power.
Half-asleep, she struck out a hand, and asked for mine. Do I need to go on? By the time the Nabami morning golden sun hit us (I am using the word "us" very consciously here), I had the most lovable gunda, with me, as my girlfriend (?!)
Dashami ended with my parents getting to know about her. And her parents forming a vague idea that a guy called Anurag Mazumder exists.
My god is Shah Rukh Khan. And my mantra to get to know her feelings is the Palat trick from DDLJ. She did not look back. When I saw her off at South City twice, when I dropped her home after the concert, on Panchami when she took a bus from Lake Mall, Shoshthi evening when she took an Ola Bike, Nabami morning when she went home in a taxi. Nope. She did not turn to look back. Maybe the Palat trick isn't true. Maybe my god is wrong.
Maybe, my god always does not need to be right. Sometimes, rationale, maturity, common goals, ambitions and motivations are enough to know how the other person feels about you. Choosing to sit and talk about insecurities count. Talking about future job and business prospects matter. Supporting your partners' passion project mean a lot. Maybe mature relationships blossom this way.
I have hardly any words to describe her. I can just confess, how it is being near her. She finishes my sentences, gets my references from The Office. Likes Chandler the best. Knows the best quotes from Superman. Listens to Ghazals, knows Urdu, loves Literature, listens to Manna Dey, takes interest in True Crime, and the city. My city. My Calcutta. Kolkata. Which is now equally hers.
I have always said, home is where the heart is. And she feels like home. Being around her is being calm, composed, being happy. Being happy is a sensation I had forgotten. Being around her, makes me dream. Dream big.
Now, home is where the heart is. And my home now, sleeps peacefully, at New Alipore. I choose peace and inclusivity, as I finally accept New Alipore as a part of Kolkata.
I dropped her off at New Alipore Petrol Pump, last evening. As she crossed the road like a 5-year-old, I mumbled, "palat", thinking, "She has never turned to look back. Maybe the Palat trick isn't true. Maybe my god is wrong."
As she hastened across, reached the other pavement, and turned back to look at me. Twice. Some gods cannot be painted as false idols.
Happiest day of my life, so far. I have a reason to believe there's many more to come our way.
Cheers readers!
Till the next monumental moment of my life,
Goodbye from cloud nine,
Anurag.
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