It’s a dull day as usual. I am about to witness another boring day passing into oblivion, dragging its tail to eternity. These hours always haunt me, memories make mayhem inside my office-browsing soul. The fading voice of a distant 'paperwalla' outside the glass window brings back long forgotten tales. An indifference, almost glacial, spreads itself over the expensive ceiling of a Calcutta office. I try not to look behind.
And then the dam breaks open.
I see a boy peeling an orange in a small town. He looks back in bewilderment and my world takes a tumble. I try to look away with all the sagacity that my world can offer me! I see dada, my grandfather, trying to acquaint a little boy with Jogindranath Sircar. I see his radiant eyes and innocent smile. I try not to met his gaze.
Perhaps, everyone of us has started to play different tunes from what we used to play earlier. Wisdom prevails. Hard and concrete wisdom, Euclidean in its very essence.
And then the dam breaks open.
I see a boy peeling an orange in a small town. He looks back in bewilderment and my world takes a tumble. I try to look away with all the sagacity that my world can offer me! I see dada, my grandfather, trying to acquaint a little boy with Jogindranath Sircar. I see his radiant eyes and innocent smile. I try not to met his gaze.
Perhaps, everyone of us has started to play different tunes from what we used to play earlier. Wisdom prevails. Hard and concrete wisdom, Euclidean in its very essence.
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