Anurika Sarkar

M y head felt heavy and my heart was pounding as fast as it could. But before I could control myself, I collapsed on the floor, only to find myself on a hospital bed the next morning  I woke up. My mother was sitting beside me,with my hands in hers, and my dad was talking to the doctor. I  wasn't from a wealthy family, but my dad earned enough to meet our simple needs and uncomplicated desires. But now, when I looked at my father, I sensed tension in his eyes. Maybe the doctor was asking for a huge fees, which probably my father couldn't afford. The room was really big and air-conditioned as well. I asked mom about the fee thing, but she manoeuvred the topic to my health. I realized that I was right, the cause of their tension was indeed money, but I didn't say anything. I immediately felt utter hatred for myself, for landing my parents into such a situation, and that too for him..... This story started two years ago, when I entered college for my graduation. Ner...

White saree with brown border, sometimes blue, and sometimes green with a bunch of keys dangling from the end of the "pallu", golden metallic bangles decorating the wrist, hair in shades of grey and white neatly done as a bun, short height and bronzen skin - this is how she is etched in my memory. My DIDA. My Granny. During the much-awaited long summer vacations we had back at school, I always spent a good part of it by staying over at her place. I slept with her every night, both of us cuddling each other, my head resting calmly at her bosom, listening to the innumerable Bengali stories and poems she had to share. I still remember, she was the first person to wake up every morning at 5.00 a.m. , in the huge joint family of my maternal uncles and aunts. Then after the bath, offered her morning prayers to the plethora of Gods and Goddesses decorated sacredly in the small temple adjacent to her room, which we call "Pujo-r Ghor" . She, then, slowly walked around the...