Chapter 1
Whatever comes our way...... whatever battle we have raging inside us, we always have a choice.
It's the choicesthat make us who we are......and we can always choose..................to do what's right.
- Spiderman (Peter Parker)
The door opened. The big room in front was all empty. Void of life and furniture, both.She had atleast expected to find a chair, or a stool. All tired after the long journey, she had been through. Yes, it had been a long long journey.Thankfully she had brought along the bedsheet, she laid on the floor, and sat down. She had been here before.Since then a lot had changed.
It was not so empty then, although not as jam packed as her two bedroom flat in Borivali, Mumbai. So full of furniture that there was hardly any place to even set your foot on the floor. And this was a big, big room. The living room of once what was a Zamindar baari( The landlord's house). She walked to the verandah, slowly on her toes, so that she wont dirty her feet. The marble flooring was all filled with dust now. It felt like a mirage, a mirage you cant see, but hear. Fading voices, kids shouting "I see you now!! Dhappa!" She could smell the jalebis cooked every Sunday morning in a big pot in the kitchen, which was not part of the house. How she would get all wet running from the Baari to the kitchen to steal the jalebis, during one of those rainy days. Strangely today again it was a Sunday.
Sunday was not an option, it was the only option.Her schedule was all set.By next weekend she would have to meet the long list of friends and family, she met only once a year. Then two days with her parents, and then to Borivali, for some leftover work in Mumbai. And then back to her jam packed schedule in SFO.
Life had become so much void emotion, fully mechanical.As if she was a robot waiting for commands to come to her.And she knew time would fly fast.Yes, and thinking of time, it was already 11:00 am, and there was lots to do in the next seven hours, she would be here. No time for old memories. But it was difficult. Coming down the flight of stairs, she came across the big window, halfway down. It was painted green.And there was a small extended part of it where you could sit and could get lost for hours into the birds and the green fields afar.She remembered, this being her favourite place to read her favourite abridged versions of Shakespeare,Maupassant,Somerset Maugham. There she sat again, opened her laptop, and noticed the the mail icon in the right corner. It was urgent and needed to be answered asap.It was already 12:00 by the time she was done with it. Time to look for lunch.Lunch was easy in the house those early days. Just had to walk from the main house to the kitchen, which was always full. But today all you could find was spiders cooking their lunch in the webs. She walked
out of the main door. Right in front was the Thakur Dalan, the place where the big Durga Puja would be sponsered by the Zamindars. Thousands would come, some for praying, others for the free lunch that was offered. There were some hints of English architecture, in the structure.High sloping roofs supported by huge white round pillars.This was usually so common in the old structures in Calcutta,but 200 years of British dominance had so clearly left its traces in such
remote a village as Durgamati !She slowly moved here fingers over the dust. Underneath it, her Grandma's name was inscribed. She could feel a small tingle of pride within.Somewhere within she thought "Did I have a choice. No, I have made up my mind."
At a distance she could see Ravi da. He was short, bald with a flat belly, and very small eyes. So small, they hardly existed. "Oh madam! You already here?? Ya ya, I m not much late han? Only an hour." Aaheli raised an eyebrow."In India thats not considered much.So you must be new to the place. Not to worry.We have taken care of all the formalities. Just need your signaure at a few places, and we will be all set to go." It all sounded too good to be true.But she didnt have much of an option, did she?It was too hard for her to take care of all the property from such a long distnace. So it seemed logical to derive whatever minimum benefit it could offer, and do
away with it.Logical.
It was mid July.And if you have been to West Bengal, India, you would know how bad the weather is,this time of the year. It could pour just anytime. And when
not raining, you would sweat profusely, thanks to the huge humidity in the region. And there was a time Aaheli had waited for this rainy season to come. That sweet smell of wet ground after the first shower.Intriguing.Innocent Aaheli didnt know of the tough world around her then, the competition, the endless run, the roadblocks and the chivalry.Her row of thoughts were broken by Ravi da's words."Madamji, if we dont hurry, the registrar's office would be closed by one, for lunch. And , then if it rains, it may remain closed for the day". Sure West Bengal was all RED. But what actual ideologies of the RED were adopted, and what all was customised according to personal and political needs can be left to your imagination.We reached the office at 12:50, only to be greeted by the watchman, with his lunch dabba."Sir, the office is closed for lunch" he said to Ravi da, not looking at Aaheli. Male chauvanism although existant everywhere, was quite evident in these small villages."Okay , fine. We wait here then or do we go and find something to eat Madam ji?" Ravi da asked Aaheli. Lunch seemed a better option. Aaheli nodded" Ok then,
lets find something to eat."Madam ji, we have a chinese restaurent here.Lets go there then". When in India, Aaheli longed for Bengali food.But its difficult to make people realize that, you desire the things, which are away from you , the most."Ok then, lets go." Aaheli said raising her hands up in the air, in desperation.
Aaheli asked Singh ji to drive to the place Ravi da directed.The food was anything but Chinese.You could very well call it a new cuisine " Bongo Chinese". Viola! A
new dicovery! The humour was short lived. The asbestos sheet on the top of our "Chinese" restaurant started clanging loudly. It had started to rain in Durgamati.
