Stick Of Life

I had never heard about Tim Hortons Café before, until on a fine morning, its huge “first-time-in-Kolkata”-poster, proudly announced its grand opening outside my window. The picturesque interior of the Café in the poster was too tempting to be overlooked. I was drawn for it instantly.

The calling bell disrupted my chain of thoughts. I came to the door to answer the call, though I already knew it was Sourish. He had a habit of ringing the bell impatiently. Chipku followed me. Pishi, my father’s unmarried sister, and Chipku, my cute little pet, were my only family. I opened the door lock. Sourish entered hastily into the apartment.

“How much Mr. Meheta offered?” Sourish quipped. I always admired his to the point’ nature.

“He told eighteen Lakhs, and I think…” my answer remained unfinished.

“Don’t reduce a penny from the amount you asked for”, he concluded, Stick to twenty Lakhs. It is their necessity as well".

“But I must consult with Pishi first. Otherwise where shall she go?” I protested meekly.

“Listen Bristi, I will manage everything and take care of your Pishi. You just confirm the Chef Manager that, you are mentally prepared for the assignment. Please, for god’s sake, don’t let your opportunity go.” He demanded. At that moment I was dumbstruck to see a scene. Pishi as usual was urinating inside the bathroom, keeping the door ajar. She had completely forgotten the existence of Sourish. I immediately closed the door from outside. It started since her childhood; a problem in nerve forced her to live a handicap’s life and hence found nobody to marry her. This was responsible for her occasional mental imbalance. The physical problem was incurable, so was her mental setup. Apart from me, her only object of solace was Chipku.

Sourish left for his kitchen soon. He is a junior poissonnier, commonly known as fish chef, in Marriot International. I also do work there as a junior patissier (pastry chef). We both joined there after completing our culinary school training and hotel management. I gave him company up to door. Removing the naughty hair from my right eye he said in a ‘matter-of-fact’ manner, “Please convince Pishi sweetheart.” “Don’t forget, we have to live a long happy life together”, his final words sounded more like a verbal threat than a genuine concern.

I went back to my room and switched on my Dell Inspiron. The desktop background, an image of my little family, i.e. Chipku, Pishi and me, always made Chipku happy. He gently touched his black wet nose to the screen as a gesture of recognition of his photo. My goodness!! He was so cute. He was of a month old when Pishi brought him home from a nearby paper bin. It was around ten years ago.

Pishi brought me up well after both of my parents breathed their last on the same day, and probably on the same time in the infamous Rajdhani Express accident fourteen years back. Our main source of money was the accident compensation and my father’s remaining bank balance. Pishi opened a Xerox shop in order to fill up the economic deficits. It was a wise decision on her part and it went well.

I logged in into my Facebook account. Pritha changed her profile picture which grabbed 253 likes within two hours. More than her beauty, I guessed, it was the photographer’s credit to make her beautiful in public eye.It had to be, because none other than Sourish clicked it. It at once reminded me the day when I met Sourish for the first time. After finishing our Hotel Management, we were selected by a renowned hotel management chain and were dumped to Bangalore for eight month culinary training periods. There I met my prince charming, who can handle the fish cutting knife and the DSLR in his own efficient way.

In my college days I used to distaste the rich boys who showed off with SLRs or DSLRs and took photos of frogs, dogs and behaved as Nat-Geo appointees. We used to laugh at those bunch of silver spoon babies.I didn’t like Sourish too. But in the evening when Pritha and I saw the pictures posted by Sourish in Facebook, I was really impressed to see his photographic skill. He also e-mailed me a reel of snapshots of the moments when I was removing my naughty bunch of hair unconsciously from my right eye. It was very natural and according to Pritha’s quick review, Sourish was ‘the Man’ for me.

***

The Tim Horton Café was in verge of its completion. The floor was made of Italian marble. The project manager didn’t have a moment to shed his breath.

My phone started ringing.

“Hello madam, have you finalized your decision? It’s Meheta here."

I didn’t like this voice. But I had to answer him. “Listen I haven’t took any decision, I need more time."

“Finish your thinking fast ma’am.No one will give you eighteen lakhs for two kottah land."

“But our house is there.You should understand it”, I murmured.

“I know. I know. That’s why I am offering you 18 lakhs. Ok. I’ll call you later.” The voice went off abruptly.

“Who is calling” Pishi asked?

“Kitchen friend Pishi”, I lied.

“Ok, come, have your lunch, you have to go to kitchen” Pishi informed.

Chipku was also having his lunch with me and Pishi was gently caressing the furry softness of Chipku. Chipku was very fond of Pishi; he always stuck with her. That’s why I gave his name Chipku which means always stuck. He didn’t like to have any food when Pishi was not nearby. I often wondered whom Pishi loved most- Chipku or me?

“So, Sourish is going to Italy?” Pishi inquired.

“Yes, our company is hiring few staffs for their new Italian Branch and you know Italy is the heaven for the cook”. I was hesitating to inform her that I too have the opportunity to settle in Florence with Sourish. So I remained silent and tried to concentrate on the food. Last year we had an indo-italian fusion food festival in hotel and it was really huge successful. As a result some of our staffs have got the opportunity to go Florence.

Two years ago, during my training period, Pishi suffered a mild stroke while working in the Xerox shop. She was hospitalized by the local vendors. I was too preoccupied with my tight schedule of training to turn up for her. She was upset but never complained about it. When I was finally posted in Kolkata she was the happiest person in the world. She never wanted to let me go.

“Pishi”, I finally made my mind up.

“Say, Bristi”, her voice quivered.

“I want to get married. Will you arrange my marriage?” I asked. I wanted to know whether she was ready enough to stay without me or not.

My question caught her off guard. She remained silent for a moment. Chipku also sensed some serious matter was cooking between us. He fixed his gaze towards Pishi and me waited with an inquisitive gesture while moving his tail like a pendulum. God! This animal understood everything or what?

“Yes, of course. Why not! But I will go with you. Right?” Pishi’s eyes were glittering with speculations. “Are you not taking me to your in-laws’ home?” she tried her best to make the situation funny and normal.

But it was really a challenging moment for me. I softly replied, “If my husband doesn’t want to adopt a sixty years old girl, what will happen then?” I maintained to put my question in a humorous tone but my intent was as clear as daylight.

Initially she didn’t find any words but suddenly she replied, “Then I will go to an old age home.” She tried to make her answer funny, but she failed miserably to control her emotion.

This time I was at the receiving end. It never came to my mind that I have to send her to an old age home.

“Your husband may not adopt me, but I know you will”, grabbing the emotional path, she replied. It was too much for me. I left my lunch unfinished.

“Ok, Pishi I will”, I said hastily, “don’t forget to finish your lunch in time. I am leaving for kitchen.”

***

During the training period in Bangalore, Sourish took the every possible way to woo me. How could I forget the day, when after the daylong training, Sourish took me and Pritha to a Punjabi restaurant. After ordering the food, Sourish said, “I don’t want to waste my time with cinematic dialogues, I really love you Bristi. Please accept this as a memento of my love.”

I was overwhelmed inside but didn’t show my excitement outside. While opening the plastic wrapper, I instead replied loudly, “Hello Mr., still I have not accepted your proposal.”

“I know you will”, confidence came from the other side.

It was a superb oil painting of the image of my profile picture. It was too hard to say a ‘no’ to Sourish.

“It’s a masterpiece.” Pritha was visibly moved to witness such a love proposal.

“So, your majesty, what is your verdict?” Sourish winked.

“Awwwww, soooo sweet”, Pritha offered her judgment in favour of Sourish. “Accept it Dumbo”, she elbowed me hard.

I didn’t say a ‘yes’ to him that day. But a bond was made between us for the entire life. There was no cinematic speech and I like that silent love. It was all about care and respect.

“Hey, come on, we have reached”, Sourish’s voice brought me back from Bangalore to Kolkata. We got down from the taxi. The place was very calm and quite, though it was just outside of Kolkata’s extended perimeter. I didn’t fail to notice the sign board which carried a name of the house: “Santi neer”, (Peace House) a super-specialty old age home.

I googled hard to find this place. In fact, I was searching about it for months. Sourish also helped me to find good references about it and thus made me mentally stronger to face the situation. I didn’t know why I was doing this. Pishi just said about old age home once and I found a solution to dump her. I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. I was so self-centered. We met the super. He also informed us with a professional assurance, “Don’t worry ma’am, she will be okay here. Here every one gets 24×7 ambulance facility, weekly doctors come for checkup, balance diet is also available.”

“There is a problem in her leg and she must…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

Seizing my words, the super said, “It will be okay. Just pay for the 24 hours nurse. I will manage everything

“So, single room or dormitory what do you want? I think for a lame old fellow, single room with nurse will be okay”, he decided everything on our behalf.

“Do what suits her best”, my voice was inaudible.

“What about the expense?” Sourish asked.

“Initially two lakhs for security deposit, monthly twelve thousand for room, food and medicine, and ten thousand for 24 hours nurse service and hospital charges extra if necessary”, the super informed.

We met few old men and women. Most of them looked happy. Some of them had NRI son or daughter, some believed in different ideology of not staying with their sons, some missed their grandchildren, and some of them silently shed their tears. However, they all said “we live like a family here.”There was a Radha-Krishna temple inside the campus, jogging track, prayer hall, everything old folks needed.

***

The new glasses of Tim Horton Café were glistening in the street light. It was almost finished. It would be inaugurated soon.

It was the time to finalize the decisions. I had to finalize about the old age home with Pishi. I also had to finalize with Mehta regarding the price. And my boss had to finalize the Italy team.

“So what do you want to say”? Pishi asked.

“I want to go Italy and want to settle there.” I replied clearly.

“I understood it long back, when you first mentioned it.” Pishi told.

“Then why didn’t you ask me to go? I asked.

Pishi inhaled a deep breath and said, “Every old fellow like me needs a stick to stand. No one wants to lose his stick, and you are my stick. I am also thinking about my future just like you.”

Chipku came closer to Pishi. Perhaps he too realized an unwanted storm fast approaching.

“Ok, I am not saying, you know, you have a long life still left. But what about the house or Chipku?” she continued.

“There is a promoter, Mr. Meheta, who is willing to buy the house; he offered eighteen lakhs for it. You please okay it.” I told.

Pishi smiled gently “and then."

“I have spoken with an old age home; expenses can be managed from the money of our home. But there is only one problem, the home will not allow Chipku there and he can’t live without you.” I finished.

“Ok you have done everything on your part; I will see what can be done with Chipku,” Pishi was as calm as a stone.

Pishi’s voice startled me. But I was too predetermined to move from my stance. I didn’t recognize this new me.

***

Tim Horton Café had been inaugurated yesterday. It was such a grand opening.

I was told by my Chef Manager that I had been included in the Florence team. I was so happy. And I came home early to share the news to Pishi. I rung the bell but Pishi didn’t come out to greet me. Then I pushed the door, it was not locked. I went inside, but neither saw Pishi nor Chipku. I called them, but none replied. A fear came to my mind. I walked towards the bathroom. I was shocked to see the sight. Pishi was sitting on the floor; her legs were stretched, her back was supported by the wall. She was facing the door, as if was waiting for me to come. Chipku was lying dead on her lap. The white tiles of the bathroom floor turned red. There was a bloody knife lying in front of her legs.

“What have you done Pishi? You KILLED Chipku?” I shouted to my Pishi for the first time in my life.

“He can’t live without his stick. He is old nah! I was the stick of Chipku’s life. You have decided to move his stick away to Shanti Neer. How can Chipku live without me?” Pishi replied in an ice cool voice.

***

Bristi could not to face the bathroom mirror. From the other side of the mirror a burning angry face was blaming her. She was blaming her for everything, for being so self-centered. Bristi wanted to escape. She took the knife and wrapped it in her blue scarf. She just wanted to move but she knew that it was impossible for her to wipe off the memory of Chipku. She knew it would haunt her till her last breath.

She sat in the Tim Horton café, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. Her house was visible through the glass window. There was an old fellow holding a bloody dead dog in her lap. She finally took a decision. She had to remain as Pishi’s stick of life.