Someone Special

At 22:00 hours her flight from Schiphol kissed the runway of the Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose International Airport. Christmas Eve it was. Everyone at the arrival gate was wrapped up in warm clothes waiting eagerly. She saw parents reuniting with their child, couples getting together after many days. Her cab came.

It was already 00:13 hours when she turned the key and got inside her tiny apartment on Jamir Lane. Much warmer than Amsterdam, she thought as she turned on the hot shower. After two sandwiches and one cup of steaming black coffee, she took her keys to her car. She knew herself to be a good driver only the 13 hours of the flight made it risky for her to drive.

She took the left turn from Russel Street to Park Street. So beautiful it was. She was awestruck for a moment and then she remembered that night. Two years back the same day. It was Christmas Eve. Allen Park, Park Street. Their marriage was only six months old.

“So, I called up the captain,

“Please bring me my wine”

He said, “We haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nine”

And still, those voices are calling from far away,

Wake you up in the middle of the night

Just to hear them say…”

Her husband held her hand high up in the air and sang with hundreds of people,

“Welcome to the Hotel California…”

She was so happy. Her dreams came true. She was a great photographer, always having jet lag. Europe, America, Australia, Africa, Asia; she has captured moments for the National Geographic Magazine. And now he was his husband that same guy who took her heart while she was in college. One of the top journalists, BBC had hired during the final year of their college. Life in one word was great. Only if she knew what would happen next.

That night while they were having their dinner in Peter Cat, a nice young woman walked up to their table. Her husband chatted and had hearty laughs only her laugh changed to a smile. She came to knew that the woman was Amrita, that ex of whom which Ritobroto used to talk. The faint loudspeaker from Allen Park sang,” All I want for Christmas is you…”

As winter receded from Kolkata his love faded away from her life and by April they parted from each other. She loved him very much and didn’t get herself help legally when Ritobroto took her only daughter Ipsita away from her.

She turned off the engine when she finally reached BB Ganguly Street.

She didn’t ring the bell with Ritobroto Banerjee written under it but called Amrita instead. After two long in fact very long minutes Amrita opened the door.

“Hello, Merry Christmas.”, Amrita gave her a hug.

“Merry Christmas, where is she?” Swati asked her.

“Oh, she’s sleeping, come this way.” Swati followed Amrita.

It was a dark corridor. She listened to that same old snoring as they passed their bedroom. Ritobroto it was. She remembered those sleepless nights and then she would wake him up and had fights which eventually ended with her in his arms laughing with tears in the eyes. She wondered whether Amrita was like her who pressed and blocked his nose while he was snoring.

It was Disney’s Frozen which told her that she had reached the door of her princess.

“Go inside, carefully,” Amrita said.

She tip-toed as she opened the door. It was dark inside. Ipsita never used to sleep in the dark, she thought. Ipsita’s gift.

Small soft hands grabbed her by her stomach.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..”, Ipsita started to sing the words of James Lord Pierpont from One Horse Open Sleigh written in the autumn of 1857. Amrita came inside and turned on the lights.

“Look at my room Maa.”

Beautifully decorated. Drawings and her Maa’s picture everywhere. Swati saw her daughter’s face lighted up just like the star on a top of a Christmas tree. 

She was so happy. Ipsita the only love left for her in this harsh ugly world, have made her Christmas.

Ritobroto laughed his usual laugh that night when they had their dinner but this time she laughed with Ipsita which never turned to a smile.

It was Christmas morning. Cold winds brushed Swati’s hair; the glasses were down in her car. The car music system played,

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

But the very next day, you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special”.

That special was Ipsita sleeping in the back of the car. She was allowed to spend her time till new year with her. She smiled looking at her rear view mirror.