"Boris's Scribbles" (The Beginning)
Boris’s Scribbles
(Chapter 01)
25.07.2007
“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
This quote has been stated by the eminent leader of Indian
Independence, Mahatma Gandhi. This is actually quite true. If we want to bring
any change for the welfare of ourselves and of the people with whom we share
this worldly residence, we need to change our own selves first. Otherwise,
there is no point of imputing others because we have no power to control
others’ minds or life. This truth is absolutely evident to me now at this age.
Though I am retired now, the vast experience which I have gathered in the span
of 75-year old life whispers this truth to my ear in each and every moment.
Nowadays, I spend most of the time in the garden attached to the room because I
love to disperse myself in every corner of this greenery. The glittery of this
New York city what I considered to be the most felicitous once seems quite
meaningless to me now. But the “Big Apple” is still a name of fascination and
millions of people cherish the dream of spending their life here. This city
never sleeps. People hardly have any time to close their eyelids either to take
rest or ponder over the gravity of life. They keep themselves busy with doing
their jobs or with visiting clubs, pubs, disco hubs, concerts etcetera. One
thing is MANDATORY to enhance their enjoyment and that is ‘Liquor’.
One day, the next-door neighbor asked me standing in
his balcony, “How can you stay at home all the day long without going out and
getting yourself acquainted with others?” He was less surprised and more
sardonic in his tone. I smiled and replied in a calm composure, “If you
encourage me to join the universal sports clubs, thanks for your concern! Let
me tell you that the disease of arthritis has defeated me already
and I have no interest in vising the clubs without any reasons and taunt others
if I have nothing to do there.”
“I see”, he sighed. Then he said, “What
about parks or pubs? Umm…don’t you think you need to keep yourself updated with
the demand of the time? I enjoyed, you know, glasses of whisky with a group of
youngsters last night in Fraunces Tavern. And it gave me a divine feeling. Ha
ha ha.”
“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
Someone whispered it in my ears again. So, I left the garden without giving any
reply to that person’s words. I, in fact, could not bear the odour of liquor
coming from his mouth even in the fresh air of the serene morning. I felt that
the odour was contaminating the air and he had no right to do that. I cannot
change him, but I should not give him any chance to spread the odour by making
the conversation further.
27.07.2007
Nothing significant happened yesterday to pen down.
I really don’t know when I have developed this habit of jotting down some
scattered incidents of my life which I feel have a little bit of importance. When
the landlord will sell all the belongings after my mingling with dust, I don’t
know what would be the destiny of this notebook. The other stuffs of this room
have more or less materialistic value. The landlord will be able to make some
profit from them. But what about this diary? It has nothing special. Some white
pages are bound together and covered by a faded brown cover. I cannot remember
from where I bought it right now. But one thing I will never forget. To be
honest, I cannot. That is the quote which is inscribed at the end of the front
side of the cover. The quote is “And miles to go before sleep.” I know this
line. This is the most famous line from Robert Frost’s famous poem “Stopping by
Woods on a Snowy Evening.” I have written this line ten times in the first page
for no reason. I don’t know why this quote has shaken me tremendously from
inside.
Oh! Yes. The shop from where I have bought this
notebook is Ganguli Essentials and it is situated in 129, College Street Road, North
Calcutta. The owner Mr. Ganguli gave me his card with the packet of the
notebook and the address is written there. Both the card and the packet are now in front of me on
the desk. I did not notice them first. But nobody can blame me for this.
Shakespeare, himself, has confessed the invincible power of aging in his play As You Like It through these lines,
“Last scene of all,
That ends the
strange eventful history.
Is second
childishness. And mere oblivion.
Sans teeth, sans
eyes, sans taste, sans
Everything.”
28.07.2007
Wipe away my tear
Oh dear!
Will you come to hold my hand?
I will be there for you till the end.
No collision, no frustration, no
concussion,
Let’s write a saga of life’s happy version.
Today is Wednesday. The morning is quite beautiful
and the sun is glaring at me with a big smile. I am writing these things in my
diary and will put it aside soon. I have
decided to pass this halcyon morning in my garden with a cup of tea and read
the book The Last Child in the Wood written
by Richard Louv. Suddenly, an incident has struck my mind and stopped me from
putting the diary down. Last Tuesday, I was cooking lunch in the kitchen and
thinking that it would be a blessing if human beings did not have any stomach
at all. The stomach is never filled no matter how much we try to fill it and
transforms the intellectual eyes of human beings into the ferocious, reddish
eyes of a lion which lurks all the time to catch its prey. Whatever, I rushed
to the balcony as soon as I heard a loud scream. I saw that a dog was lying and
groaning on the street and it was terribly wounded. Fresh blood stained the
whole white furry body. The owner was a rugged, old man and he was around 80-85
years old. He was absolutely broken and begging help from everyone although
nobody showed any interest. Somebody giggled and some just passed the street
away. I observed everything from my balcony. First, I thought of turning my
back and walk to room to complete the cooking.
Then I halted.
I don’t know who whispered into my ears, “The
innocent creature can be saved if you help them.” I started vacillating after
hearing this anonymous voice….. At last, I made my move.
I went
downstairs to see the condition of the dog and take it to the nearby
veterinary home. But everything was ended by that time. The dog was dead. The
owner was sullen and silent for a moment. Suddenly, he broke his silence and
yelled, “I will not let this happen. I must find out the monster which has
smashed my baby’s legs and killed him.”
“Monster?” I asked.
“Yes, that bloody car! That caused this accident.”
“What kind of car it was?”
Then the owner gave a brief description of that car
in a trembled voice. It was of rich sapphire colour, bright with nickel,
swollen here and there. The length was gigantic and it was overflown with
hatboxes, supper-boxes, and tool-boxes. The labyrinth of windshields reflected
dozens of suns.
The value of life has become so cheap nowadays.
29.07.2007
Today, I have spent a really good time with my own
self. In a way, it is good. When you
have none to talk to you, you are not explainable to anyone. None will come to
interfere in your life and you are FREE.
FREE? Can we truly be FREE? What is the actual
meaning of FREEDOM?
When I was watering the red roses of my little
heaven that means my garden, the next-door neighbour called me again suddenly.
He said, “Mr. Wilson? Or Jackson? I have forgotten actually.” He grimed.
It seemed that he has put on more weight and today
his cheeks were looking more sagged and rough. His flat mustache just beneath
his flat nose just looked abominable. Even his satin, royal blue gown was
looking quite unsuitable. I don’t know why I was observing him in such a scrutinized
manner this morning because I always feel an inner urge to avoid human beings
like this neighbour on other days. One more thing was quite special in his
appearance today what I did not notice before. It was a “gold tooth” in the
front part of his teeth.
“Well, you are stuck as I can see. What’s the
matter?”
“Nothing. Why did you stop me?” I replied.
“A grand party was held in McSorley’s Old Ale House
by one of my industrialist friends yesterday. Oh gosh! What a party! Arrays of
tables were decorated with the bottles of tequila, you know? Beautiful young
ladies were standing in rows and continuously rejecting the beaus with a
flirtatious smile. Ha ha! I was also
rejected twice. “
I was a bit surprised hearing the last line. I
asked, “You? But you are already married I suppose and your age is now …”
“59 only. I have no botheration about my age.
Understood? You garbage? He shouted out of rage. I was about to leave without
continuing the conversation any further. But the man kept badmouthing me. He
continued to tell that it is not possible for me to realize the importance of
those “grand places”, “parties”, “people who came there by cars”, “ball dance”,
“jazz music”, “beaus and belles”, and most importantly the magic of “tequila
the tonic”. To him, a peg of tequila can make everything beautiful in the world……
I know that
he is wrong. I am also guilty of the same crime which I committed 30 years ago.
I confined myself in a room all day long and consumed alcohol continuously. I
had no chance to survive unless she came to my life like a GODDESS.
“First you take a drink,
Then the drink takes a drink
Then the drink takes you.”
-
Francis Scott Fitzgerald
30.07.2007
“What is money?
Is it sweeter than honey?
Being carried in everyone’s pocket,
Leaves people like rocket.
Sometimes makes one flatterer
Or, sometimes makes one flat imbibing his blood.
Love, life, living
Is lost due to bribing.
Selflessness is gone
When money becomes the DON!
What is money?
Is it the Flame of fame or
Blame for being lame?
Today I did nothing special. My whole day was spent
in taking care of my saplings and flowers. I have bloomed red roses, black
roses, hibiscus, daisy, and marigold in my garden which always look so pure and
different from the fakeness of the outside world. When I have a glance at the
green, young saplings, my heart fills with positive vibrance and I travel to a
sublime psychological state. I try my best to look after them so that they can grow
and survive amidst all the negativities and tumultuous situations. I also pray for their strength and well-being
from the core of my heart. Today, I was doing the same thing. Here, in this
city, most of the people think that nurturing trees or plants is a waste of
time. But I know very well that this is not true at all.
Yes, I can still remember about the theory she told
me, Animism. It is the belief that everything has a spirit, even the inanimate
objects.
Suddenly I
heard a knock on the door. Perhaps, it was around 11.00 a.m. in the morning, I
don’t know. I don’t have any clock. The sun was dispersing its radiance. Yet,
the glow was soft. “Who’s there?” I asked.
“Open the door!” A rough voice shouted. I know the
voice, but I could not recall it at that time. I headed towards the door and
opened it. It was the landlord of the apartment where I stay.
“Mr. Johnson, I suppose!” he said with grimace on
his face. “As you know today is already the 30th of July and you
know very well why I have come to you,” he continued.
“Rent”, I said.
“Oh! Absolutely,” he started giggling. “I have no
other business with you. In fact, you know what? I cannot trust you at all. Ha!
Ha! Ha!”
I did not make any reply.
“How to trust a person who does not attend either a
party or a pub to have some drink and socialize thus? By the way, what’s your eternal source of money? Are you, by any means, the don of the underworld who
operates smuggling missiles? Or, I guess you are the master of black magic.”
Then man started laughing again. When he was
laughing, I felt a strong repulsion for his attitude. An abominable odour was
coming from his mouth and of course, some dissembled strands of women’s hair
were tucked around the button of his night gown. He is already above 40 and has
a daughter as I saw once. I don’t know how he can do all these nasty
things. “You conjure up money by dint of black magic, no doubt,” he said.
I did not say anything. I went inside to bring the
half amount of the rent. This person always claims the first half of the rent
on the 30th of any month and the rest amount on the fifth day of a new month. I do
not know the reason and I have never asked him anything about it. When I gave
him the rent, he said, “You should be always grateful to me, you know that? I
gave you shelter seven years ago when you had nowhere to go. Never think that I
let you live for money or from the concern of my then newly built building.
Have you ever shown any sign of gratefulness to me?”
“I never pretend to be obsequious. You are all
fake.” I retorted firmly.
“You are fake, you bloody.” He left my house and
slammed the door from outside with his leg after saying this.
End of
chapter 01…………….
Comments
Post a Comment