The Banyan Tree and the family of drifters

A friend of mine occasionally asks me to jot down concepts for her documentary films or rather flesh out the skeletal structure that she narrates to me with words. This is a family she actually knows and the characters are real.She just told me about them

 

 

I sat at the gnawed wooden dining table basking in the warmth of her welcoming graceful smile as she nodded her white head, urging me to tuck in to the sumptuous breakfast laid out in front of me. The sunny side up poach, the crisp toast, the steaming cup of tea was the usual fare in the morning whenever I dropped in. She moved around with gliding ease as she did her daily chores. Clad in a simple sari, her elegance was captivating. Her manners, her disposition, her imperturbable calm has mesmerized me ever since I met her when Raja Chatterjee took me over to their house on Elgin road for the first time. I had heard so much about her, that in anticipation I had taken special care to prepare for the encounter. I had donned a red and white traditional saree, left my hair open, and picked up a bunch of white tuberoses for the elegant lady. She smiled at me and said, “Remember how beautiful you looked that day, and the fragrance and freshness of those tube roses which still haunt me?” I was rather struck by her beauty, her simple yet immaculate hairstyle, her warmth, her smile and her ease in conversation. She was like a soft glowing candle that would never flutter with the whimsicality of the breeze that blew. At 85, having survived the onslaught of cancer, the ravages of time, and the turmoil of human trials, she was still unruffled, still beautiful, still an epitome of elegance and everybody’s beloved Rikuma, alias the well known Rekha Chatterjee.

 

She was the wife of the late Kamakhhi Prasad Chatterjee and belonged to an elite family on Elgin road. Her house was the hub of intellectual and cultural exchanges, social revolutions and artistic creative discussions. I sat there looking at her with awe and reverence. The dilapidated structure on Elgin road with its dim lights, rickety staircase, cobweb infested brick bare walls is a mere shadow of its former self but she isn’t. She was the central attraction of the intellectuals and artists who flocked to her house as her husband’s acquaintances. Her husband was busy with his cultural and intellectual pursuits but she did not confine herself to being a pining lonely housewife. She was busy reading, writing, translating and being the focal point of stirring intellectual discussions, playing the perfect host rustling up succulent beef steaks and serving wine or whisky, and sitting amidst her elite guests sipping at her own glass. Most of the men were in love with her, gazing at her with devotion and admiration and listening to her words in bewitched silence. She held everything together, be it her family members or her guests or the gatherings that took place in her house.

 

 

 She was blissfully unaware of my gaze. She had a lot to do. Runu had to leave for school and she had to get her breakfast ready and pack her lunch. Runu came down but her footsteps were confident in spite of the darkness of her blind world that enveloped her. Rikuma had always been there to make things easy for her and breakfast was already served when Runu came in. Rikuma drew out the chair for her daughter. Runu was getting ready to go to the school where she was the piano teacher for the children .Her interest and skill in music had been her strength from childhood .Ever since she had lost her vision,  her focus had been on making her fingers more deft as they twirled over the piano rids. Rikuma ensured that no detail was missed while getting her ready for school and applied lipstick on her lips with loving care. Runu had been the only earning member in the family for years. Thus the family was not very comfortably off, with the absurd rents paid by old tenants on the ground floor and her salary being the only source of sustenance. Thus, the deeply etched lines on the floor were the only reminder of the grand piano that had stood there, and had to be disposed off due to their inability to maintain it. Now Runu practices on her Yamaha synthesizer to keep her skill alive. She left for school with the servant as her faithful attendant. However not so many years ago it was Raja Chatterjee who ensured that he took her to school personally every morning.

 

When Raja stepped on to the streets of Calcutta for the first time he had a different name. He was called Sushil Bhattacharya and was from remote Dhubulia. He came in drifting to sample slices of life in the city and swim in the vastness of the city’s intellectual and cultural waves. Neither did he have any roots nor any specific destination.  Destiny as it were brought him to the Chatterjee household which was then the hub of intellectual and cultural discourses. He became a regular visitor. He was mesmerized by Rikuma’s calm elegance and erudition. Then he met Runu and took it upon himself to take the reigns of her dark world into his hands. Since he had nowhere to stay in the city he moved into the Chatterjee house and adopted the name Raja Chatterjee as Runu’s husband. They fell in love and he would often try to be a “Gandhari” reincarnate, and accompany her to school blindfolded to try to get the feel of how she groped around in her blind world. Many accused him of being an opportunist and a parasite but he was unaffected. He was too much of a drifter and was hardly around. He was dabbling in the weirdest of pursuits. He was performing in street plays, wandering with the minstrels of Bengal, tagging along with a film unit, selling bibles using a Christian name, sitting around and enthralling people with his ramblings at Coffee House or being a faithful companion to a loner at Flury’s sharing a sandwich or a coffee or rushing off to help someone in distress. He had no means of livelihood and each tomorrow was another day. He lived off people but he wasn’t fleecing any body. He would borrow a hundred bucks from a friend (he had plenty of them) and would hail a cab buy a quart of gin or whisky and then get whisked away to another call. He still spends his mornings at the coffee house and there is always an admiring lot of youngsters gathered around him drinking in his words as he sits sipping his tea or munching his little snack which others are only too happy to buy for him. However he moved away from Runu and couldn’t connect to her heart of darkness any more. He loves her as he always did though his bohemianism and his drifting never allowed him to bond with her.

 

 

Thus he brought in Ranjit, another blind man, one day to teach brail to Runu. Ranjit and Runu spent a lot of time together and thus they came close in every sense of the term. Raja had to move away both physically and mentally, and he did that without resentment because he realized that he could never fill in the void in Runu’s life nor bridge the gap between their worlds. He sleeps outside their bedroom now, where Ranjit has moved in with Runu, and he sits outside after a long and tiring day listening to the sound of brail typing or the blaring transistor that is Runu’s constant companion. As he sits there tired and lonely Rikuma never forgets to send him a properly laid out elaborate meal befitting the son in law of the house. The changed equations between Runu and him hasn’t affected Rikuma’s attention or care for him.

 

As I sat there admiring the matriarch Rikuma’s attention to details while she was laying out Raja’s meal the phone rang, Rikuma answered as usual and called for Raja as it was for him. She sent for him as she knew he could now come in to attend the call as Jhimlu wasn’t there in the house. She told me that Jhimlu, Runu’s daughter had left at 4 am as she had morning shift duty at the airlines office where she had a cushy job. This was Rikuma’s usual routine - waking up at 4 am to give breakfast to Jhimlu because she had morning shifts quite often. The strain between father and daughter affects Rikuma a lot but she doesn’t show that to either and continuously persists in her efforts to bring them back together. Jhimlu, when I first met her, was a little girl in a pretty frock and a radiant smile. But now she is a hardened person and bitter as well. Raja in a fit of rage revealed to her that she is an adopted child and the shock was too much for her to absorb. Ever since that day father and daughter haven’t communicated.

 

 

When Raja came in to receive the phone call I looked at his emaciated frame and remembered the first time I had seen him, a strapping handsome man with a resonant voice. Now he was a mere shadow of his former self, but the spark in his eyes was still as bright. He was speaking to some eager young people waiting for him at the coffee house. He said he would be late as he had to take Ranjit to Calcutta University, who was planning to do his MA. This man had developed a strange bond with Ranjit who had edged him out of Runu’s life and bedroom. He had no resentments or indignation. There was no pain in his eyes except at the mention of Jhimlu. He regretted only one thing, that moment of outburst when he had revealed her origins to Jhimlu. Yet he and Runu had done more than their best to provide everything to Jhimlu, education, proper upbringing, music lessons and unconditional love. But Jhimlu doesn’t play the piano any more. She has moved away from music as she has moved away from her father.

 

Rikuma wilts a bit when she thinks of this rift. But otherwise, nothing has scarred or marred her radiance. I had seen her crying only on the day Lobon, the darling of the house - the pet dog, died. She cares about each and every member of the household and takes everything into her stride. I spent the whole day with her. After her daily chores were over, she sat stitching a baby frock which she planned to gift to someone just like the one she had given my daughter when she was born. As she chatted with comfortable ease I took several trips down memory lane with her and the house came alive and resonated with voices and music through her words. What a contrast these images were to the present state of the house in its dull weather beaten condition, dimly lit by tungsten lamps and the eerie silence that sets in when everybody leaves. Yet she is like the Banyan tree that has withstood the passage of time, the decadence that has set in, the tumultuous relationships in the family and the macabre changes.

 

 

When I stepped out of the house and looked back at the skyline, the Chatterjee house on Elgin road seemed a proud and stubborn survivor against the grotesque silhouette of skyscrapers.

Reviews

[An Ordinary Woman]

I had seen her crying only on the day Lobon, the darling of the house - the pet dog, died. She cares about each and every member of the household and takes everything into her stride. I spent the whole day with her. After her daily chores were over, she sat stitching a baby frock which she planned to gift to someone just like the one she had given my daughter when she was born.... Your descriptions really are quite vivid, giving the reader great imagery. It's very well written and drew me in. I liked the part about sewing baby clothes and the piano being replaced with a keyboard. Great writing! I'm sure your friend for which you write enjoys as much as I did.

[Chelsea Schermerhorn]

So much imagery! This is a wonderful story, and I thank you for entering my contest. You have made the first cut of finalists.

[Michael X]

raj, this couldnt have been anymore embracingly heartfelt, your words flow with certain grace and light,
I have to agreee with carol, in saying you bring the reader to the moment, and make us feel as if we are
apart of the moment with you, paying special homage to the ones closest to your heart, its beautiful
in the way its leaves the reader effected, i can walk awazy and know your writing has touched my soul,

in this regards, in a way you make the heart feel like it's coming home, the ending punctuated the
entirety, with a special attention to detail, indeed, you have a gift for story telling, but more than that
you speak truths in your words, revealing the heart which in turn speaks to the heart, top shelf indeed.

[The Tao of Bri]

i really like the detail you put in this..it really does flesh out the piece nad make it so easy to imagine as you read..transporting the reader amidst your writing scenes.

I like the cultural tones and colors in this story. The history and how things have gone through was written well. There was good flow and ease in going through the story. It is a wonderful piece.

[Robert Luna]

The vivid detail in which you write is so wonderful and plays in my mind's eye so clearly. I think you have a great gift of capturing a story and a reader's imagination. As I read this felt consumed by it and found myself digging in deeper with in my own thoughts and idea of what could possibly the underlying story that is involved in the story with in this story. This was such a great pleasure to read and to start my night off with. Wonderful written and such a pure joy to read.


Great Job!!!!!!!

[Carole]

I must say Raj, that you definitely have a gift of story telling as you do so eloquently with avid detail and impeccable imagery throughout. Are you named after Raja whom you spoke of in this story? I enjoyed your story from the beginning to the end. Your beginning immersed me immediately into the body of your story and your conclusion was perfect.

As we age, our vision isn't as sharp, and it would help us "Older" folks, if you considered a larger font and more integration with paragraphs. Though I enjoyed this immensely, It became a bit hard to follow because of it's length and the minimal breaking for paragraphs. Just a small suggestion to aid in the ease of reading your pieces, IMHO. Whether you change it is entirely up to you. :-)

As I said, you have got the gift of a story teller. You either have it, or you don't. I applaud your diligence in writing such an interesting story, lavish with incredible imagery. It was as if you wove an intricate tapestry from start to finish. Thank you for taking the time to share this, Raj! Blessings!

[Bhavya Kaushik]

Damn!! This is such a brilliant write!
Brilliant usage of Language and such a great command you've over the language and grammar , it is really commendable I must say!

Firstly, the way you recollected your memories and expressed them is such a beautiful way, that's really very impressive..
Secondly, what I loved the most about the story is the name of mostly all the characters that actually started from the word "R"...I don't know , it can be an intensional or an unintentional attempt...
But, for me it created a very nice flow to read the entire story without any disturbance!

Awesome flow and a great write indeed! :)

[Rhan F. Sydney]

Oh my...This was such an intricately woven tale...It was beautiful and inspiring...I thank you very very much for sharing this with me...Truly amazing.

[Kevin Andros]

Forgive me for coming directly on to the point, but I found this story a bit stretched. It's a whole lot of confusing when the reader doesn't know where it all started and where we are headed. You have written an entire paragraph for describing the past situation or the flashback, but when you return after a couple of long paragraphs, the reader is very confused where we left off. In a way that is brilliant, as I also found out that you have a great knack of words and description, but I found it all a bit confusing as I had to always jump few paragraphs up and then down again so as to see what was really happening in the story before the flashback.

Another point I found out that may have been reason for this confusion and that is very minor and very easy to switch. I saw that all the characters' name in the story starts with 'R'. Ex: Raja, Rukmini, Runu, Ranjit.... So it is very confusing as most readers get the character by the first letter istelf. It may sound strange, but it is a fact. Maybe this has happened as your name istelf starts with 'R' -'Raj Rupa' - and that is very natural for any human being. Forgive me if I am wrong.

Apart from these couple of above mentioned drawbacks, I found it a delight to read as always. I always like to read your works. Like I have said, I feel very good reading about India and Indian lifestyle.

Thank you for sending this to me. ~KA~

[Brenda Sue]

A very lovely piece. Beautifully penned. Great job.