A woman with the potential to make it big. It is not that she cannot: she simply will not.
The closest anyone has come to being an adopted daughter.

Friday, July 20, 2012


He was a political activist. An extreme one. This involved getting whacked around by the police, broken bones and lying unconscious in custody for seventy-two hours during the turmoil of the early 1970s.

She was sort of a marvel as far as arithmetic was concerned, and took up factorising large numbers as a rather obscure hobby.

Some time back, he had displayed an uncanny interest in cooking. This had resulted in a serious turmoil in the household, with strange-looking new equipment being purchased regularly and mysterious recipes being conjured on a daily basis. The frenzy lasted for a fortnight or so, and the instruments ended up in the "loft".

She had decided to go for yoga a few years before the aforementioned incident. She was under the perpetual impression that everyone would laugh at the sight of her in a salwar kameez, but no one did. That did not help, and she quit out of shyness in two weeks or so.

He has never displayed an interest in art, but has shown an unexpected aptitude at pencil portraits.

She has a pathetic sense of music, but keeps on singing songs from the 1970s all around, resulting in the irritation of entire households and beyond.

He used to sleep during the most exciting of cricket matches. And eventually woke up, red-eyed, to cast a glance at the score, and sit transfixed without a word for the rest of the match.

She used to sit up to watch the most mundane of cricket matches in far-away countries. She possibly wished he was up too, but never complained.

He has given up smoking multiple times. He claims that the current one is permanent.

She drinks vodka with a disgusted expression on her face. Then asks for more.

He gets up by five every morning. Every morning.

She goes to bed after two every night. Every night.

He has a sweet tooth. No, that's an understatement. He can eat all the sweets and chocolates and more in the entire city and still crave for more.

She has more relatives than he can eat sweets. She knows by heart what each of them do, where they live, who they are married to, what they do, how many children each have, what they do, where they live, who they are married to, what they do, and so on.

He usually gets full way before he gets to the fish-and-meat part of buffets and ends up claiming that he prefers vegetables more.

She thinks Anjan Chowdhury's Shotru is a remarkable movie and has revolutionised the Bangla film industry forever.

He thinks Shammi Kapoor is the greatest actor ever born. He had often bunked school to watch Shammi Kapoor movies.

She seeks solace, or whatever, in assigning a container to every portion of leftover and stacking everything skilfully inside the refrigerator. Every night.

He gulps down action scenes in Indian movies - irrespective of whether it's Amitabh Bachchan or Abhishek Chatterjee - with a perpetually open mouth.

She sings the national anthem in a terrible Bangla accent. With moist eyes. And overdoes it at times. Well, she always overdoes it.

He was, and still is, an incredibly homesick person. When transferred around, he quickly got back at the first opportunity, even if it meant a career disaster. When he couldn't, he quit, even if it meant a financial loss.

She was, and still is, an incredibly moralist person. She did turn down offers from renowned places and ended up travelling long-distance by local train every day to teach in a village school.

He is still unsure as to why a Jatinga Bird is not the same as a phoenix.

She still thinks (and this is 2012) that Sourav Ganguly should be a part of the Indian cricket team. Still.

They fight over the ownership of the newspaper, and between them, end up solving the crossword almost every morning.

They fight over the ownership of the television remote control, have ended up buying two separate television sets. These days, they watch the same soaps on two sets.

They were once supposed to go for a movie together. On a scooter. He drove. He talked to her on the way. Only to realise that she was not there. He drove back to realise that she had never got on to the scooter. She had that bored I-knew-it look on her face.

They had also decided to have a baby. And they did. And after nine-odd months, some totally random guy was born thirty-five years back. On this day.

Thank you both. For everything. For making me, me.


  1. ei re..ami je ektu senti hoye gelam :) u knw why! khub bhalo..khub intimate..

  2. A beautiful post Abhishek... Loved reading it... Happy Birthday to an awesome blogger... :)

  3. Ufff... Boddo bhalo... Arnab ke jiggyes koro boi chhapar byapare... Bimba keo bolte paro

  4. I had tears in my eyes as I read this... love you... I really want to meet you some day in person... I don't know how you manage to handle multiple emotions so well...

  5. Tdaa!!
    Now a wife tolerates this 'compound'

    We now know you were a fruit of absentmindedness and forgetfulness that resulted in a scooter fight.
    Life's one bumpy ride.

  7. (\_/)
    @ @

    *H a P p Y

  8. শুভ জন্মদিন
    আমি আপনাকে ভালোবাসি
    *sigh*মাত্র একটি ভাষা যথেষ্ট নয়।

  9. " totally random guy"??
    I beg to differ
    Can you kiss your parents from my side, first thing tomorrow? Yes?

  10. eta otyonto bhalo hoyechhe. :-)

  11. They had also decided to have a baby. And they did. And after nine-odd months, some totally random guy was born thirty-five years back. On this day.

    And I, for one, is mighty glad that they did. Good thinking on their part. :)

  12. Happy Birthday! This is the best Birthday post.

    Now I understand why you are so good at Bollywood stuff too! It takes more than a generation's effort.

  13. odbhut bhalo hoyeche-monkemon kora bhalo-porte porte thoter kone chilte hasi ene dewar moto-eta amar mote tomar sobche bhalo lekha gulor ekta.sudhui ki tomar lekhoker krititwo?na tadero? :)
    Shubho Janmodin.r onek obhinondon.tomakeo-tader keo-tomar aj emon "tumi" hoye othar jonyo.

  14. I wished you personally, but ended up not commenting here... Kichhu likhechho boss. Probably your best yet - and this one's special. I hope "Them" do read your blog - if not, then please show "Them" your post this time!

  15. This is the loveliest short love story I have read.


  16. And before I-as a regular returnee forget to wish you-
    Thank You for the posts and the written treat.
    Happy Birthday,

  17. Thanks for all the wishes. And all the nice words.

  18. I could guess the names of the characters right from the beginning....coz I know all of it....
    This was a very nice and novel tribute to your parents on your birthday....
    BTW, Belated Happy Birthday!....This July I seem to be wishing everyone on birthday a day later :)

  19. Very well written. I have became a fan of your posts. Kudos once again...

  20. Dear Ovshk,
    quite late but still could not resist letting you know,I was just spellbound by the words, powerful yet simple and directly from your heart. Too(ooooo) good.

  21. A spawn's birthday post dedicated to the source.
    The fruit here carries both traits,is an ambivert movie buff and a pessimistic doer.

  22. আপনার ডাক নাম কি?