I’ve known
Kolkata for a long time now. She is my kind of woman – Intelligent,
sensuous, extremely physical yet at the same time lives in her head! The
classical old, blends with the transition into the new and still very
modern – all aspects combine to make her quite irresistible. She’s a
product of the past like an old photograph you clicked thirty years ago.
There is vibrancy in her, which shows in the way she walks and the way
she talks, the things she does, or the discussions she enters into. She
shares my love for Shakespeare. Sometimes we stand before a tall mirror
enacting parts of his plays as if we were on stage. We share Wordswoth
and do Lord Alfred Tennyson’s "Charge of The Light Brigade"
together. She then reads to me with complete passion, the right
intonation put in for effect, from Sarath Chandra Bondhopadhay, Tagore
and Kabi Nasrul Islam. Even Samsur Rehman.
Yes, Kolkata
and I share a great deal together. But! Kolkata can sit with you and
hold an hour long discussion on Bertrand Russell and at the same time
vanish in the middle of it all to put that exact amount of washing
powder in the clothes the washer woman is about to begin to wash and
come back to the discussion as if it were a part of the Bertrand Russell
talks. Again she might surprise you by going into the kitchen with your
poems, just to check on the cook and to add the seasoning in the food.
This time she did the same and running into the kitchen she instructed
the cook to prepare the masalas for an exotic fish dish she said
she was about to cook up, to celebrate my visit to the city.
" Don’t be silly, Julia, you are not a vegetarian when you are with me"
"Oh yes, I am" I said, " devoutly so, except for my small vice – haven’t
been able to give up on real meat - of either gender!"
She laughed from her heart " Thank God for that".
You guessed it! Kolkata is not her real name. It is something else but I
call her that because he reminds me of Tagore’s Sonar Bangla, Satyajit
Ray’s Apur Sangsar and Buddhadev’s Red Bengal and "who–can-be-next"’s
New Bengal. But no! I can’t tell you her real name because I have
crossed my heart not to disclose it.
Our friendship has been long and there is very little we don’t know
about each other. We share similar tastes and when we are together, we
even share each other’s clothes. Except for the sari, which I never
wear. She looks ravishing in one and so graceful! But hey! Stop! There
is something that tells you she is not bound by the yards of material
around her – she is a free soul. She loves trinkets and she changes them
to match whatever she is wearing. Fastidious! Then suddenly you will see
her in faded blue jeans with a shirt covering her butts – what is it,
you might think. How are you going to place her in your mind? What is
her image? You are uncomfortable since everytime she changes it you have
to change your perception of her. Very challenging indeed!
So, on the last day of my stay in Kolkata, we spent a day together
cooking up brunch or lunch or whatever you might like to call it and
talked of the Women’s Movement in India and the forthcoming National
Women’s Conference going to happen in Kolkata between 9th – 12th
September, 2006. We laughed at the idea at how the whole Salt Lake area
where it is sited to take place, will become one big "Allirajyam"!
Kolkata and I have never expressed or even been faintly aware that in a
moment of fleeting fancy, we might be attracted to each other – Never!
Ever! So what was it that changed things for us this my last day at
Kolkata – was it Elvis Presley singing " It’s now or never, come hold me
tight, kiss me my darling, be mine tonight. Tomorrow will be too late,
it’s now or never, my love won’t wait" Or was it that woman who had kept
me awake for the entire month of May, raking my mind and body with red
passion? Can’t say. I was in Red Bengal and Kolkata was glowing pink on
her cheeks, a dark shade of lipstick on her lips, a very sensuous voice,
her eyelids drooping, the ring of her laughter in the room, her languid
looks traveled over my body – a hot summer afternoon, just the right
temperature to match our inner climate, too magical and magnetic to
resist, only a fleeting thought of the woman on my mind passed as we
were transported to another space. Raw passion met deep sensuous petting
as we bathed in Tantric "body-mind" ritual, the boundaries between sex
and spirituality blurring out, raw unadulterated sex that brought us
close to the realms of the spiritual, and sensual spirituality giving
way to sexual abandon.
By the time we emerged, Elvis had finished singing all his songs on that
CD. Our lips locked in last minute soft kissing and then we separated,
still lying on the bed and in typical Kolkata style broke into a song –
"Picnic time for teddy bears, the teddy bears are going to have some fun
today…."- Like as if we were in nursery school, screaming at the top of
our lungs!
A hot, wet summer afternoon sucked us into a deep sensual, sexual
experience and left us with no residue to hang on to – Clean. Accurately
surgically cut to make for a chance event.
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