Those mornings, those mornings!

an ode to those childhood mornings in a Calcutta neighborhood

multi-tonal voices trying to hit the syllables on the harmonium, smoky conversations, earthen teapots, slurping down the discussions, the mustard oil-induced smell of frying fish, emanating through kitchens, many, loud blabbering of young tones, gulping down lines from the school textbooks, rushing back home, like a trapeze artist, two filled greenish bags, one with vegetables, other with fish, standing in line, front of that snack shop, the waiting game for the oily fried breakfast, grandfather, turning the pages of the freshly brewed newspaper, for debates in the evening, that stray dog, hovering near the butcher, waiting for a share, that stray cat, trying to bite through that fishbone, while others wait in the distance,

the hullabaloo of the good old Calcutta mornings, still rings a bell and for a momentary moment, sitting thousands of miles away, it seems i am back in the middle of the chaos, seeping in every inch of nostalgia, wishing time to slow down, to slow down, so that this homesick heart can savor it all, for a second more, for a second more!

Paroma Sen Suryatapa Suntonu Bhadra Hoyto you all can relate to this as well. As and when you get time, would love to read your take on a “typical Bengali morning.”

This piece is in response to Srinath’s beautiful prompt-Nostalgia. Please read his gorgeous piece below:

Thank you so much, Navya, for sheltering so many of my stuff!