Home is where the heart is .....but mine's at two places ........ Part here in Chennai with my Husband and part in Kolkata where my life had been till not so long back .The part in Chennai will go where my husband goes but the part in Kolkata will always remain.
On the fourth of January my husband and my-self reached Kolkata to be with my family on the fifth which was my father's second death anniversary. This year in complete contrast to the last, we that is my mother, sister and my-self decided to go to the Kali temple at Dakhineswar to offer a puja for him, and so we could spend the day together in memory of him .
Last year we had a pretty big ceremony and puja at home with a number of people invited to attend. This year we were accompanied by both our husbands and my fathers best friend more like his brother. In the temple we queued up for a long time at the end of which we were able to just hand over our basket of offerings for a second, to the priest and then as he returned it we had to leave, to make place for the next devotees.
As we walked away from the shrine I felt a pang of immense guilt and sadness for the way we had just comemorated our huge loss, just two years back. This is not the way I had wanted to do it. I would have much preffered to have done a puja at home and invited people who knew, loved and respected my father, maybe for a meal after the puja so that I could keep him alive in their memories too maybe just a little bit as he was alive in mine . My husband who has never known my father was of the opinion that no one really cared so calling people over would be waste of their time and my brother-in-law who barely knew him as he died about six months after my sisters wedding too agreed to what my mother and sister proposed was the best way to remember Baba on his death day .
After the visist to the temple everyone proposed that we visit Chandannagar and other nearby places and our School which is less than an hours drive from Dakhineswar as we could spend the day together and also because we may not have the opportunity of doing so again as my sister and my-self now live in Bangalore and Chennai respectively.
Everyone was sad on the day and did what best they could do to quitely keep him in our memories but all of the things that we did made me angry somehow. I hate having Baba referred to as dead as to me he is very alive and I have never allowed his pictures at home to be garlanded as it reminds me that he is gone .I would have preferred to share the memory of my father with as many people who knew him in order to keep him alive and fresh in our memories.
For the last six years I have come to Dakhineswar on the 21st of April to accompany one of my friends who had lost his father on the day as he came to offer puja early in the morning .
Through the drive we barely spoke as I knew those silent moments were for the memory of his father and I left him to spend those alone, though I was physically present, but always went along as I felt one needs a silent presence too in times of sorrow. In all those years inspite of my complete empathy with his situation I did not realise the extent of his pain till this year when I went to the very temple for the same reason though this time the pain I felt was mine.
On the way back from Dakhineswar and Chandannagar my husband and others started planning what and where we would eat or see in kolkata for the next few days that we were there. All I could feel was more anger, sadness and hurt specially at my husband as what to me was the biggest loss of my life was just a duty for him which had been done and now we were free to enjoy the rest of our stay. Without a word of protest I joined in the discussion and plan of what we were to do the next day as I felt duty bound to see that my husband enjoyed his stay in kolkata as he fulfilled his by accompanying me to kolkata in the first place.
Ienjoyed my-self the next few days too but with a very heavy heart .I miss kolkata, I miss my Dad, I miss Ma, home and my friends and above all I miss my life there. Maybe if I do go back it will not be the same but those memeories of my life there will always be inviting me to return.
I took my husband to some of the places that I loved and often hung out at. Walking up and down Park-Street in the chilled January evening with the Christmas and New year spirit still alive in the restaurants and shops and the aroma of the freshly baked cakes and pastries from Flury's in the nippy air, the live bands at Some Place Else in The Park and The Shisha bar on Camac Street and driving around Salt lake.
Often I wonder this thing called empathy is it really so lacking in the male gender or is it that they prefer it that way as "ignorance is bliss" and if they do not understand you or atleat if they pretend they don't they can safely have things their way and safely say "why didn't you tell me .......".
My memories of my father and kolkata are synonymous and that is the way it will always be so wherever I may go or be that will always be home for me.
