This night while commuting with 2 million other souls on the Mumbai Suburban network an action potential from the darkness outside brought back a memory I had forgotten.I think it was the underlying rabindra sangeet leitmotif ,I was hearing to,that brought it on.It was 2012 and I was travelling for love in the Sunderbans near the Indo Bangladeshi border. That cloudy morning among flocks of birds and ancient water ponds I found myself on the roof of a state transport bus with only middle aged woman while the men sat supervised down under.The strange sight of sitting among sareeclad woman,cockroaches and rice bags jolted me from my Kasundi induced trance.I asked the violet lady beside me about this and she said its because the local men were too drunk to be trusted to sit first class.Realizing the precariousness I found myself in ,some menthols presented themselves to mask last nights sins.Soon my Mandormani arrived, a quaint fishing cove.Get this.Local legend has it that from the sea here , the next landmass is Antarctica so when they immerse their Durgas during the pujos they wrap her in exquisite winter wear.Bengal.That land where women ,food and Culture rule.And How?Next stop Bandra.(from inside the train atleast)
Posted on: Sun, 26 Oct 2014 15:44:01 +0000
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