Long Walk

Today I got off three stops before my usual bus stoppage, the intention being to indulge in 30 minutes of excruciating pain. I have this little ritual, whenever I get off at Dhakuria, I always buy myself a small carton of Amul Masti buttermilk and walk home instead of taking a bus. Sadly, the buttermilk doesn’t add to my waistline, rather the walk takes away a little more out of my already non-existing weight. Well, the buttermilk was over in a little less than two minutes with more than four-fifths of the distance to my house still left to be trekked. And to top it all, I was left with an empty carton in my hand and there wasn’t a dustbin in sight. That’s what you get for taking the road less traveled. Inconvenient though it was, the responsible citizen in me decided to awaken from its slumber and refused point blank to throw the said excess baggage on the street, much to the chagrin of the hand carrying the carton. Well, I guess guilt is heavier than an empty paper container.
The reason why I love walking through this area, from Dhakuria through Jodhpur Park right all the way to my place near Usha Gate, is sheerly because of the sights around me. Jodhpur Park has the most amazing houses I’ve ever seen. And I don’t mean matchbox-sized apartments. I mean proper houses, the ones that seem right out of the March issue of Architecture Today or Home and Hearth. I love walking through this area, admiring the houses, selecting the one which I’d buy when I become a millionaire. Sometimes I even go to the extent of plotting how to evict the current residents so that I can move in. But even though these houses probably have more than one car in their respective garages, the entire stretch of the lane doesn’t have a single public dustbin.
So I was faced with a choice. Throw the carton on the road and carry on admiring the houses. Or take a less visually stimulating route and throw the freaking container.
So social service it was. I decided to walk through the government quarters in the hope of finding a dustbin.
These quarters have stood here ever since I can remember. And so have their residents. After all, where else in proper South Calcutta can you enjoy the luxury of a two-bedroom apartment, all for the monthly rent of Rs. 75?
It had been quite some time since I had walked down this road. As my eagle eyes searched in vain for a dustbin, I noticed that the area had changed drastically. In place of the old dilapidated houses next to the quarters, minuscule flats were coming up. Never knew till today why the sight of grey construction cement depresses me. I now think its because they mean that another old house has been relegated to the dusty pages of memory.
A little ahead, I came across a children’s park. From the distance, a bright red signboard proudly proclaimed “Bina Shishu Uddyan”. A closer look revealed a square field overgrown with shrubbery. There wasn’t a single child playing there, and all that remained of the swings were their supporting structure.
I guess you’ll agree that it was a pretty gloomy sight. But somehow that wasn’t what I felt. I’m not really sure that right now I would be able to describe what I actually felt back then. It’s like one of those rare moments of clarity, when everything seems clear and precise and this one thought rushing through your brain, floods away every other thought, memory and feeling till nothing else remains. But as soon that one moment passes by, so does that feeling. And racking your brain to recall just that one quite reflection leads only down a blind alley.
I reached home a little wet due to a light drizzle and a little late due to my ramblings. And yes, I had utterly failed in my attempt to find a dustbin. I intend to retrace my steps in the coming week. And this time I’ll make sure that I dispose off my drink container beforehand, lest it distracts me from my thought-provoking environs.



A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together