ফিরতে চাইলেও ফেরা যায় না

বাংলা মাসগুলো আসত জোড়ায়-জোড়ায় । আষাঢ়-শ্রাবণ, ভাদ্র -আশ্বিন,... ইংরাজি মাসগুলো মূলতঃ  individualistic হলেও - May-June বা  July – August কে ভাবতাম জোড়ে । প্রথম দুটি গ্রীষ্মকাল - দ্বিতীয় জুটি বর্ষাকাল। কিন্তু ছোটবেলার অনেক শিক্ষার মতোই এটাও মনে হচ্ছে ভুলে যেতে হবে। গত এক সপ্তাহ দিল্লিতে বৃষ্টির ছিটেফোঁটাও নেই। নির্মেঘ আকাশ - দায়সারা গোছের নীল। মাঝে মাঝে দু একটা হাল্কা ছাই ছাই মেঘ এদিক ওদিক থেকে ভেসে আসছে - দেখে মনে হচ্ছে উদ্ভ্রান্ত পথিক - পালাতে পারলে বাঁচে। হলই বা August শেষ হতে এখনো খানিক দেরী - তাতে ওদের বয়েই গেছে।

ওদিকে দূরভাষে মায়ের অভিযোগ - কোলকাতায় রোজ বৃষ্টি। ডাক্তার-বাজার সংসারের সাত-সতেরো খুঁটিনাটি কাজ জমে যাচ্ছে - করা যাচ্ছে না সময়মত। তার সাথে আবার ভাদ্রের গরম! ভাদ্র! চমকে গেলাম। ভাদ্র এসে গেছে বুঝি! ও হ্যাঁ - তাই তো! এই ফ্যাকাশে নীল আকাশ দেখতে দেখতে, আর রাজধানীর গরম মেজাজে ঝলসাতে ঝলসাতে দিন-ক্ষন সব গুলিয়ে যায়। তা হোক। ভাদ্র এসে গেছে মানে আশ্বিনও তো এলো বলে তার পেছন পেছন! আর আশ্বিন মানেই পূজো!

ক্যালেন্ডার বলছে গান্ধীজীর আশির্বাদে এবার পূজোয় ছুটিটা লম্বা করে নেওয়া যেতে পারে।

কিন্তু তারপর? পাহাড় কিম্বা সমুদ্রে যাওয়া যেতে পারে।

কিন্তু সে তো সারা বছরই যাওয়া যেতে পারে! আশ্বিনে কেন? রাস্তা চলতে চলতে তো সেখানে শিউলি ঝরে পড়বে না টুপটুপ করে। শিউলি না ছুঁতে পারলে আমার আবার আশ্বিন বৃথা হয়ে যায়।  ভোর বেলা মায়েরা যেত ফল কাটতে, কলাবউকে  স্নান করাতে - আর আমরা শিউলির ঢের নিয়ে বসতাম বারান্দায়। একছড়া, দুছড়া মালা গাঁথতে গাঁথতে হাহা হিহি। একশ-আটটা জবা আর স্থলপদ্মের মালাও গাঁথা হতো। কিন্তু হাতে থেকে যেত শিউলির মেহেন্দি রেশ।

টুক করে টিকিট কেটে হুশ করে কোথাওই তো চলে যাওয়া যায় - শুধু ফেরা যায় না ওই শিউলি, স্থল-পদ্ম, আম-জাম-কাঁঠাল আর অজস্র পাতা-বাহার ঘেরা বাড়ীটাতে। আমাদের তিন বোনের ঘরের বাইরে ছিল একটা  সাদা-গোলাপী গোলাপের ঝাড়। তাতে সারা বছর গোলাপ হতো। আর ছিল একটা মাধবীলতা। যখন দুর্গাপূজো-কালীপূজো সব শেষ হয়ে যেত - খোলা জানালা দিয়ে ঢুকে পড়ত হেমন্তের শিশির ভেজা মনখারাপের রাত - তখন তার সাথে মিশে থাকত মাধবীলতার সৌরভ। সেই মনখারাপে ডুবতে ডুবতে, মাধবীলতার গন্ধে ভাসতে ভাসতে স্বপ্ন দেখতাম - একদিন ওই ছোট্ট বাড়ীটা ছেড়ে, ছোট্ট শহরটা ছেড়ে - দুনিয়াটা দেখব। মাধবীলতা দুলতে দুলতে বলত - “হবে হবে - সব হবে!” শুধু বেরোনোর স্বপ্নটাই দেখতাম। ফেরার স্বপ্নটা দেখতাম কিনা মনে পড়ছে না।

তখন কি আর জানতাম একদিন সমস্ত মহাদেশ ছুঁয়ে  ছুঁয়ে দেখে আসতে পারলেও - ফিরে যেতে পারব না ওই লাল মেঝের বাড়ীটাতে!

কেউ কি বলেছিল আমায় যে এটাই অমোঘ সত্য যে ফেরাও যায় না - ফেরানোও যায় না। হয়তো বলেছিল - শুনিনি। কেউ শোনে না। সবাই বেরোতে চায় ঘেরাটোপ ছেড়ে। তারপর আবার যখন বসন্ত-গ্রীষ্ম-বর্ষা পেরিয়ে শরৎ আসে সবাই ফিরতে চায় ঘরে। কেউ কেউ ফিরতে চাইলেও ফিরতে পারি না।

 কিন্তু তাই বলে তো আর মন খারাপ করে কাটিয়ে দেওয়া যায় না অর্ধেক জীবন। তাই সেই সাদা-গোলাপী গোলাপ খুঁজে এনে আবার লাগাই এক অস্থায়ী আস্তানায়। গোলাপের পাশে পাতা-বাহার। বাতাস তপ্ত তবু গোলাপের ঝাড় রোজ সকালেই বলে “ভাল থাকো”।  আজ বাজার করে বাড়ী ফেরার পথে হঠাৎ দেখি ফ্ল্যাটবাড়ীর বেড়ার ধারে বারোয়ারি মাধবীলতা ফুলের ভারে উপুড়-ঝুপুড়!  ঝিরঝিরে হাওয়ায় তিরতির করে কাঁপছে - আমাকে থামিয়ে দিয়ে বলল - “হোক না আকাশ গোমড়া, না থাকুক তোমার লাল-মেঝের হলুদ বাড়ী, আমরা তো আছি।” মনখারাপ একটু একটু করে মুছে যায় মাধবীলতার হাসিতে - তবু স্বপ্নের ভেতর ঘুরে ফিরে আসে সেই বাড়ী। এক ঘর থেকে আরেক ঘরে ঘুরে বেড়াই সারা রাত্তির - আঠেরোতে ছাড়া সেই বাড়ী, পঁচিশে শেষ হেঁটেছিলাম যার বুকে।          

CIRCA 2014

This was written on July 6th. The past week had been dominated by unabashed feminism. Images of Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg’s visit to India, Pepsico CEO Indra Nooyi declaring that women cannot have it all and Dame Wendy Hall crowned as the most influential woman of UK IT was all over the print as well as the digital media. And no one seemed to complain. So I thought a bit of introspection may be in order.

To begin with, let me admit I wanted to have it all, a bit more perhaps than many and everything seemed to go as per design. A career as a member of the faculty at IIT Delhi, a house well-spruced with tit-bits acquired from all over the world, a dramatics group to entertain my life-long passion in dramatics, weekend parties with co-actors - who also doubled up as willing guinea-pigs for my culinary experiments as well as baby-sitters for my son while I attended conferences and above all a spouse who was an equal partner in all the above activities barring the culinary ventures. Parents pitched in whenever necessary. And of-course India being the land of surplus labor, life was a breeze.

However, age does not stand still. As I grew older so did others around me. Students graduated. A cute little baby grew into an argumentative teen-ager. Husband succeeded and continued to climb the proverbial ladder. Parents aged. Household extended. And to accommodate all, I was soon running a household with more than double the number of helping hands as the number of members. I changed my job. I could now afford to hire a battalion of helping hands just to ensure that my life remains a perfect symphony, both professional and personal synchronized and in harmony. I wanted to be an achiever. I became the bandmaster of my home orchestra. I gave detailed instructions for the orchestra before I left house every morning. The breakfast was on the table, the cooking instructions written in labored Hindi hung on a cloth black-board behind the kitchen door, details of what to serve to whom during lunch repeated multiple times before I stepped into the car with my cup of coffee. And then, with the house virtually on seize while I am away, the inevitable happened. A series of unsolved mysteries waited for me each day. Who broke the Japanese vase? How come the new sofa is torn? Why is the school-dress not pressed? If I sincerely wanted to know the truth behind each of these, I would have to additionally hire Hercule Poirot. But that would be of little use, since I could not really afford to charge any of them of any misdeed and antagonize the said person. The next replacement would be no better. I gave up. I rather concentrated on the daily report - “no oil to cook tomorrow, rice may or may not last for two more days, the milk-man had not come today, the doctor has prescribed a new medicine for mother-in-law, a gift is needed for Divya’s birthday tomorrow, …”. And much like the Pepsico CEO, I would dash out to the nearest market, just so that the music doesn’t die from my life! The only difference being that, since I was not a CXO and never hope to be one, I do not have a secretary at work who would check whether my son had completed his home-work before he went out to play, which in turn would inevitably mean that around 10 pm when I insisted that the school-bag be packed for the next day, there would be work to do.
“Ridiculous”, pointed out my friend! “You have to be a Ginnima, like the old zamindari families, in order to run such a house-hold smoothly! Since you hardly fit the description, this is bound to fail.” “Hire a hotel-management graduate”, advised a brother-in-law. A sister-in-law, who stays abroad came to visit once and gave up the idea of returning to the country. “Impossible”, she said. “I can’t imagine myself running such a battalion!” "Symphony turned to Cacophony - tch tch!", commented a well-wisher!

And what happened to the accommodating spouse? Well, somewhere down the line, this became my household. The maids are mine, the nurses are mine, the kitchen is mine, the menu is mine, the grocery is mine, the garden is mine - I am the queen of all I survey! A queen who is asphyxiated and wants to break free from all the earthly possessions!

As the new academic year is about to begin, I have been requested to address a batch of fresh entrants about time-management, work-life balance, women in Engineering and so on. I am wondering where to begin. Should I say “Girls, don’t try to have it all - leave something for the boys! Boys, don’t let the girls take over and then happily crib that you are an outsider in your own home! It’s not going to work for long! Agree to meet your partner half-way. If that does not work - just quit!”

I wish it was as simple as that! Life is not about quitting. Sometimes life can be about endless endurance, and still dreaming about the rainbow that would stretch from horizon to horizon when the thunderous clouds are blown away.

Warsaw Diary – 10th to 15th August, 2014

Five days at Warsaw are coming to an end today. While India is celebrating its 68^th Independence day, 15^th of August, also happens to be a national holiday at Poland - the Day of the Polish Armed forces. It is celebrated to commemorate the Battle of Warsaw, which was fought in 1920. It is considered a breakthrough in world-history, which not only decided Polish independence but is also considered to have prevented communism and Soviet totalitarianism across Europe. Is it the shared history, of which I was not quite aware of, that had drawn me to quite a few Polish people, my professional friends, whom I have known for more than a decade, have met them all over the world other than at their motherland? A trip to Warsaw was special and it will remain a unique memory among all the conference memories that span my long career as a Computer Scientist and a wee bit of Mathematician.

Review sites do not proclaim Warsaw as a tourist’s haven. But for us, the past 4 days of conference, meeting old friends, making new ones and also managing some time out to enjoy Poland - it has been an incredible experience. Soaking in the spirits of a city that has literally risen from the ruins – is something that has to be experienced to be believed. Warsaw, which boasts of a rich cultural heritage, has been ravaged time and again. During the Second World War, with the Red Army across the Vistula river, and the Third Reich breathing down their neck - Warsaw was razed to the ground. In 1945, after the bombing, the revolts and the fighting – Warsaw was a city of ruins – “Miasto Ruin”. Reconstruction of Warsaw started after the war. Today – the part of Warsaw that is called the Old City is in reality new - the result of a nation which tries to remember its glorious past through the re-build. Modern and old architecture blend together to create some of the old-world charm – but the history of loss is written in people’s mind. Most of the Palaces are no more, the wealth is gone – the city today is strewn with parks – some of which housed palaces – the memories preserved in tomb-stones and stone plaques.

The University of Warsaw, Uniwersytet Warszawski, is located at the most exciting part of Warsaw – at the cross-roads of the Old City and modernism.  After World War II, it seems there was a dilemma about whether the university would be restored or not. But many professors who had survived the war returned, and began organizing the university from scratch. Lectures resumed in the ruins of the campus and the buildings were gradually built again. Our conference was housed at the Old Library building, which has now been converted to a terrific conference complex – absolutely modern with superb technical arrangements within the magnificently grand palatial structure with pristine white walls, high ceiling and stone stair ways. The new library has shifted close by – another unique glass structure – with plenty of natural lighting and greenery all-around, complete with arched path-ways covered with vines and a beautiful hanging garden. Jerzy, one of my Polish friends, from nearby Poznan city, patiently took us around, explaining the significance of every nook and corner. His commentary – mixed with Polish humor and a professor’s gentle sophistication is always a delight in itself. Later he led our group of Spanish, Chinese, Greek and myself to the old city where we settled for Polish cheese, dark beer and of course the famous Polish Pierogi!

Music runs in the veins of Warsaw. It is the city of Frederic Chopin - Warsaw’s darling. The concert at the Frederic Chopin University of Music was an out-of-the-world experience. The young and handsome pianist took the audience by storm with myriads of expressions fleeting through his face as he enthralled us with Chopin’s music which embodied not only love and romance but also the history and the fighting spirit of the land. It was a mesmerizing evening.

It is August and the city is alive with flowers. The old city is an absolute charming locality with quaint alleys, shops selling handicraft items, numerous restaurants and the live-music performed by numerous young groups. I went to visit the Lazienke  - the beautiful park that houses quite a few palaces, that survived the vagaries of human destruction show-case a royal art gallery and other remnants of a rich cultural heritage.

A visit to Warsaw cannot be complete without a visit to the Warsaw museum of Uprising – the place literally lets you re-live the Warsaw Uprising, a major World War II operation towards the liberation of Warsaw. Its dark stone interiors with photographs, News paper cuttings, the “Miasto Ruin” movie – stirred the memories of a shared history – so similar yet so dissimilar to the long struggle of India’s independence. While talking to some of the aged professors – who I could see literally felt the pains of destruction still within them – I realized how lucky we are! We still have our Taj Mahal, our temples of Khajuraho, Hampi, Madurai - we did not have to start from the ashes.

A journey is never complete without its food and the Poles believe in pampering the guests. From the coffee breaks to the dinner – the canapés, the crepes, the steaks, the chanterelle, and last but not the least – the delicious bread, orangy buns, cranberry delights – the gastronomic journey was stupendous. If memories of Warsaw can be over-shadowed by anything it is the warmth, the care and the friendship showered by its people. Dominik, Marek, Marcin, Jerzy, Prof. Skowron – this was one of the conferences that will be cherished for a life-time.