The Sign NOT Given

This title is kinda inspired from the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. It’s about how I spent my birthday this year.

We have a mandir at Atpur, which is on the Tarakeshwar line. Every year, we visit it during the pujas. I have grown really attached to it over the years and although I am an aethist, I somehow feel drawn to the mandir. Whenever my Dad says he wants to go there I jump for joy and start counting the minutes to our visit. I am a teenager but I become a rowdy 6 year old. I just can’t explain what attracts me so much. It could be my ancestors, or just the charm of the place. It is a really quaint spot.

Imagine my dismay then, when both Mom and Dad got fever. We had planned to go with my Uncle and Aunt. I was very upset as I thought I would not be able to go there this year after all. But, that old charm worked on me again. My Dad spoke to my Uncle and he agreed to take me with him. I was over the moon! Add to that the fact that it was my b’day. What better present?

My Dad dropped me there and I was so excited I could hardly keep still. My elder sister was also coming. We were soon in the car cruising along Kona Expressway, me chatting about this and that and the other. My Uncle put on a CD of Rabindrasangeet which we all ignored (I doubt he himself was listening to it). We stopped for tea near Dankuni. It was here that my Uncle chose to take the road not taken and made a short detour. Instead of following my Dad’s directions we entered Dankuni and made our way slowly along to Atpur. We stocked up on provisions at a small village whose name slips my mind and I took the opputunity to purchase some chips (never know how long it will take to get there…I am sorry but my stomach comes first!) and biscuits. My sister and I made quick work of them. Needless to say they only served to amplify my appetite with the result that when we finally got there I was ravenous. This was the 1^st time I had come alone to Atpur and Aparna Pishi, who is the secretary of the Atpur Mitra Sangha immediately asked where Dad was. Then she said “Tui to janish kothay ki! Amay ar thakte hobay na. Dekhiye de mondir ta!” (You know where what is, I don’t have to stay here. I have a bit of work so show them around the mandir.) As usual I felt an odd serenity come over me and the restlessness I had felt since last night slowly ebbed away, to be replaced by peace. I prayed (if you call bending down and closing your eyes for a brief moment praying) and somehow I felt my grandmother there. Déjà vu? I don’t know. After that it was time for lunch. Here, the lion that was my stomach awoke from it’s slumber ROARING for satisfaction. The spread left nothing to be desired. It was typically Bengali- dal, shukto, bhaat, macher jhol and begun bhaja (which on closer inspection turned out to be kumro). Aparna Pishi was there as usual overseeing things with her keen, lively eyes. She seemed as mischievious as we all were when we were young (I am not THAT old yet….you never know what trick I might pull next…BEWARE!). After the lunch, we paid our subscription money to Aparna Pishi and we were on the road a bit later.

On the way back,Uncle switched on a CD of Carpenters and that was all I needed to go into a trance. I must mention her that the volume was SO low that all I heard of the songs was the chorus. That was more than enough. As we entered civilization, we made a pit stop for some tea. Have you ever tried highway side tea? I assure you it is quite different from normal roadside teas. It’s milky and sickeningly sweet, a combo that particularly happens to attract me.  We made the turn into Kolkata shortly afterwards. And then IT happened.

Greenery is a sight for sore eyes, as I am sure all of you will agree. But then again you know what they say, too much of anything is BAD. I learnt the truth of this that day. As we were crossing the flyover to Kolkata, there came a fork in the road. The left fork led to Kolkata whereas the right led to Kidderpore. In between the windscreen and the signboard was this tree. As a result, my Uncle could not read the signboard until he had made the wrong turn and descended into Kidderpore. As before, my uncle had taken the less trodden path, although it was no fault of his. He takes things in his stride. So he pulled over and then drove straight on. Unfortunately the route he had in mind was sealed. So, we took a detour and got a free tour of Kolkata’s docks. I was discussing the merits and demerits of launching a tourism package- buy a trip to Atpur and get a FREE all expenses paid tour of the Kidderpore Docks. To me, it sounds lucrative. It sounded lucrative to my Uncle also and gave a loud guffaw. Thankfully, Uncle knows Kidderpore pretty well and soon we were heading home.

At Ballygunge, I took a spur-of-the-moment decision to sleep over. I called my parents and got their blessings. Then, we cousins bonded over submarine sandwiches, roast chicken and ABBA. Whenever I think of “The Road Not Taken”, I am reminded of the Sign NOT Given or rather not seen….it never fails to cheer me up…..