Pritam's Blog
The Sweets Smell Of Tulsi Leaves
Date: 23-Nov-2022
So, this old man was sitting beside me at a departure gate of Bangalore airport. Late 60s or early 70s. Travelling alone, I guessed. Like everyone else, he too was waiting for the boarding call. But his waiting, to this wannabe writer, seemed to have a metaphorical meaning, probably because I don’t wish to live that long.
Anyway, sharp at 8 am, he left his composed demeanor, took out his cellphone from his handbag and called up someone. “8ta beje gelo. Kichu kheye nebo ki? Oshudh ta to khete hobe kichu kheye!” He had to take medicine. So, he asked if he could eat something.
The person on the other side of the phone probably gave him a go ahead. He got up, all happy, went to the nearest eatery and bought himself a nice breakfast. He sat at a corner table and ate it, smiling all the while. A smile to remember.
For a brief moment, I wished I were that man. I felt he was not at all waiting to die. The man is so full of life.
Anyway, the very next moment I realised being old also meant you fear making your own decisions. Clearly, the man loves eating but probably has certain restrictions. So, he wanted someone else to take the call, whether or not he should eat. If something happens, no one can blame him…
I don’t want anybody to make any decisions for me. I didn’t wish to be that man anymore. Also, I realised I am not going to make it as a writer.
Anyway, I started missing Pallabi. The man reminded me of her. She looooves to eat. Short-tempered, angry, weary of life, but give her good food, she is all giggles. And mess up with her food, you will never hear the end of it. Once her mom used all the sweets her father got for her for some Puja at home. She called me up, ranted for half an hour. “Mishti te Tulsi paatar gondho,” she had complained. The sweets smelled like Tulsi leaves, something that’s used in Puja.
I realised even I was smiling.
Damn! I miss Pallabi. Good thing, I am going to her.