Kulfi Days-1

Short Story


  I was a guest of Mrs.Sofia for two years as the governess of the house and a tutor to her only son. She married late and had a partner called Mounti and they were entrepreneurs, full time and the housework was a burden for Sofia sister. Her husband was abroad as an engineer in a construction company. His contracts were tough and he was not around quite often…

And he came in two or three years and whenever he came home, he spent half of the vacation with his wife and the other half with his mother in the south, and he would tell jokingly that his mother’s cooking was better and she cooked from the heart. But Mrs.Sofia did not take this in her heart, as she loved her husband very much and while they stayed away, their love only intensified which perhaps became deeper on each coming and going back. 

I thought while looking at the couple that they are the ideal pair, and by all prospects one ought to live like that, happy and loving. Perhaps the couple unknowingly were creating heaven on earth. And I had a friend, my countryman and he would implore frequently to dine with him. He was a sort of distant relative and the family was known to my grandparents in the country. But I did not oblige for some period. Especially I hated the throng of guys who always accompany him. Still, once I met him at the coffee shop near a big bus stand and he chose a seat at a corner. I led the chap to the centre area where there is more light and wind and better attention from the waiters. I paid the bill from my purse because I was afraid that he would take advantage of this intimacy and behave likewise in the next meeting. This guy was a distant relative of the sort and was known to my grandparents in the country. About the country house, one sentence may explain the atmosphere, that one had to cross a ferry to reach the house and during rainy seasons, it was a hazardous task to reach the house…This gentleman was friendly but I did not think him a good match having seen many superior guys in my college days. They were better in character or looks. In the spirit of adventure at that period, I had an inclination to the sigma male. I had heard much about them, and then all of a sudden, my friend in Calcutta wrote to me that she was married to a sigma male and she had some problems in marriage. That was a hard blow to me and immediately, I gave up the idea of fixing such a match. This might not be the problem with the sigma male, but my mindset at that period of life, with lack of exposure and suddenly coming to a big city from the remotest of the villages…

Meanwhile, my elder brother was also looking for an alliance for me and a couple of grooms from the Matrimony Site were good enough or at least he thought so. He was a captain in the army and was married one year ago from another captain’s family. Most of their conversations at the dining table surrounded military images or went for hot plate pastelak which his mother in law craved to bake. They had a modern type of kitchen with modern wares and sometimes I felt a little jealous putting me in such an environment. But this feeling did not last long as I was conscious of my looks and thought I surpassed my sister in law in beauty and education. Yes, this is the story about my stay in the King’s Gardens, a decent time to reflect-

Ravens Rainbows and Shadows

The madam of the house was tall. Some instants ago was terrifying the workers with the ominous look. The servant Kishan was a Nepali boy and he had a room at the other end of the flat and he would take care of the madam’s dog and also would cook. Madam’s sisters with their husbands visited often and sometimes took part in the lunch. She should swing retrograde to the disparities of the kitchen division. I can’t hold up under the fringe bedding, my breathing is so awful and she said you have never been in the motel yet at noon you don’t have the foggiest idea about our day’s support systems…

The gentleman was invalid and he took extra effort to climb the steps as there was no lift and the building had three stories and we were staying in the uppermost one. It was a difficult task, and he held supports and expressed pain even though he was healthy and young. Later I came to know that he is a doctor and lives a sort of bohemian life. My landlord, Jippy was his friend. He regularly accompanied a young lady whom I accept he had some fondness, as both were intending to uphold, I think Jippy’s wife who applied extra lipstick on all occasions, formal as well as informal was not so extra enthusiastic at smiling at tenants, or people whom she listed as below her social cadre. My friend Scarlet who shared a room with me called her Pigtails Danny Oakley, a cowgirl name she came across recently…

Mrs.Sofia corrects lying on the sofa and fondling her velvet lanugo of hair and she was emphatically fascinated by unmistakable perspectives of staff and I used to deliver a canto or so on such inscriptions and we would wrangle for an ampere-hour or so before beginning the business. This was now and then very wearisome as the exchange would be pivotal in the sunrise hours, less in the sunset time. I hinted one day at this worry and she said she would measure the issue, yet did not state and administer the custom. Mrs.Sofia has not seen her over the most recent twenty years or something like that, and perceiving her position then, she should be decently old if she is living now, God restrict such anxieties of her mortality, let her, I want to plea such a significant number of decades from consequently respecting our earth by such events.

This was my involvement in the complex lady like mind that has gone up against the encounters to me. I was youthful at that point, and maybe good looking from general arauak and people easily spotted me in a crowd. This happens when you have exceptional personality or infirmity, but in my case, it was neither that. Still, I am not holding with false humility that it was chance…

This was the scene where I saw ravens behind the kitchen porte. Scarlet countered, you were joking or imagining but I know that it was neither. Moreover, a rainbow after in a rainy evening when circlets of clouds had given up showering, out of sheer exhaustion. And later the row of trees in front of the shops melted into big shadows and all became further darker and could not be distinguished from the night…I always remember that to be more than you are, in this connection, I remember Emerson’s words that character is a hidden power. It is more or less the simple existence, by choice, of the life of a multi-billionaire. A very relaxed state of power that comes from the thought that you are the master of so many earlier issues. When Scarlet and myself were worried about all these matters, Mr Manohar, our taldekide was trying new tactics to win over the pleasure of the ladies in the workplace. He had his list of heroines in the diary and luckily I was not one. Or else I had to expend another conversation with him while waiting at the bus stop for the suburban service that came only once in half an hour. And there arrives the leisurely part of my stay. In the a.t.i.canteen in the centre of the port, we met for chatting and having tea, and two scholars whom I knew from adolescence frequented it. One, Sauline was a sound creator and V., another vocalist in make -who kicked the bucket 10 years prior – was my country fellow and through common friends, I had chats with the last who was an exploratory prolocutor but containing scurrilous articulations. I once found the discussion very operose to develop because my dear companion’s loved sister was present and we were thick family mates and her ancestors and my family were intimate mates amid contention and fun. The novel’s vulgar, the creator admitted, he was investigating circumstances and their upshots. A sort of farce on the current state. I was quite terrified to see my companion’s kin including in venturesome discourses with the author. Another chap who frequented the café was a nihilist whose chief concern was taking part in protest meetings. We had one thing in common, I found one day that we both classed ‘Idiot’ as Dostoevsky’s best work. At that point, discussions downshifted to a principled figure whose influence they accepted. Furthermore, that minute a Cashmere divorced person joined the lobby like fire and everyone in the spheres moved to her.



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