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Sunday, February 7, 2010

A chance to make pa read to me...

Baba has seldom taken up a book and read out a story to me. he had always taken up the excuse of being a bad story reader.

All that I can remember was those sultry summer afternoons and the stories of demons and witches( Thakurir ma r Jhuli). Yes, Baba would read a few of them to me when I was barely 5 years old.

Years rolled on, and the next opportunity came when I suffered from serious bouts of tonsillitis. I still remember the thrill in his eyes as he narrated the fast moving tale from "the treasure island".

And yes once again when life seemed to be a burden...I had lost the urge to score better marks in my fourth standard class tests. He would read out the lovely story called "Iti polash" (regards, Polash).

And today, once again, I had the golden chance to make him read to me...was ill the whole afternoon and evening...and the old man stay beside me and read out two of his favorite stories...just like all those kids who listen to their parents and grandparents' bed time stories, I fell asleep not knowing what happened at the end.
When I woke up, I found myself tucked up with a blanket and the book lying beside me. I opened it and read the last few lines...feeling like a grown up once again. My father's story telling had turned me into a little girl for a few hours after many lonely years.

If you wish to know what made me write this is the link to it.


Daniel Dragomirescu said...

Best wishes from Contemporary Horizon magazine!
Daniel D. Peaceman, editor

wanderer said...

@ daniel:

thank you very much for your support.


Anonymous said...

This comment was made by a friend called santanu.

The happiness in reaching destination lies when near & dear ones stays beside ourself.To be a sweet Papa's daughter one has to be lucky ......and u r lucky dear. Lonlyness is a place we used to go by chance & happiness is the touch we used to get by luck . So kip this touch for ever .

Known Stranger said...

i like your post. you spin a subtle emotions to be understood through a simple incident. I like reading short stories of this kind. I enjoyed this post.

wanderer said...

Hey Santanu

that was so touching..
will remember your advice too.


A Cuban In London said...

I loved your tale. It was full of candour and melancholy. Many thanks.

Greetings from London.

Subhasis Chakraborty said...

Well ... tired vision and scorching lips ... This is how our days end up now ....

We miss our childhood days in midst new challenges ... Listening & Yawning at the beat of a tale ...

To catch up the bottom line among the nicely structured high rated conversations, here is a small note

"A loner day,
When the sun was shining right above,
Someone tells the tale of an evening,
Of the world which was true and new.
My heart,
Wants to make a start again now,
With all I have lost,
But yell someone,
Beside me,
My life.. Now,
They remain only as memoirs,
With me" ....

Visit me @

Being Me said...

Hi Wanderer, I enjoyed this post simple, direct, very nostalgic.


A Cuban In London said...

I tried to post a comment on the poem 'a droplet of thougt' which you uploaded on your other blog but the comments box would not come up. Anyway, I just wanted to say that it was a very beautiful poem but is there something missing here?

'A light called you

To you the way'

The word 'show' after 'to...' kept flashing in my mind but maybe I'm mistaken.

Nice piece, though.

Greetings from London.