What shall I buy for someone special
to me, nay the only one for me whom the sun and moon are not worthy enough as
gifts? I was familiar with the gift galleries in the Airports of both my place
of departure and the city where I would land in a few minutes, and never liked
ever the idea of something expected of a lazy choiceless man to pick up
easefully. After I landed and got a prepaid taxi I settled down to an hourplus ride through
jammed roads and dusty air made dustier by eyeless men and women on all sides.
After checking in my hotel arranged by my hosts I came out looking for a taxi
again to go to the posh Esplanade (
Chowrangee - Dharamtala) to buy something
special for my love. Gold I cannot give her diamond she does not like:
And images of Hindu deities in gold or silver I don't like. So metals were out
of my choice box. The other things like cloud, space and juicy spring and
wintry warmth have already been given. She likes cricket but not crazy like me,
she loves fun and gathering but that is not a gift item. She likes Biryani but
I have already promised her to eat together at Nampalli, Hyderabad. O' What a
mind boggling situation in a slow moving taxi ! Well a local cotton saree may
be of interest to her, a good one smuggled from a neighbouring country with a porous
border! But she prefers something less heavy, skin friendly and soft! Ok I'll
go for one. I paid the taxi off near a big mall ( suggested by the taxi driver
himself ) and walked into it somewhat dazzled by the lights and the fanciful decor.
Finally I stood before a stall which I thought was my bountiful destination.
Do you have Tulip cotton? The
middle aged man blinked and nodded his head. Do you have skiey silk? The man
wanted to avoid me, perhaps and pointed at another stall. I followed his direction and found the shop. I repeated the
same questions and also added a new one:
Do you have Seasonless Sarees in cotton or wool
or silk? The young man said, you will find all these only in Amegha
street in Gariahat. But don't you have something here? He brought out a few
stocks and said these are Bengal Sarees,
Beneras and Odisha sarees in cotton and silk and these are all season sarees .
None titillated my choice but to please him I bought ,what he called, a Jamdani
saree : cotton and cheap. I came back to
the hotel as I was tired and hungry.
Next morning I had my presentation at 10.am and it was over
by noon. My hosts gave me a Toyota and said you can move around and go for
shopping since your flight is at 7 PM. The driver will drop you at the Airport
before 5.30 pm. I thanked them and went for my lunch and planned to go to the
Amegha street. In the diner I asked the Manager about the exact location. He
said something which I could not follow, but sat in the car and asked the
driver - Amegha street.
The moment the car crossed the
gate, the driver stopped as a silent
Protest March of the Communists was going on. None dared to move through them.
The road was theirs; had to wait for 17 minutes and then taking a left
turn we moved. The driver parked at a crossing and said Sir,
I'll wait here, you come to this spot. I
walked into a big shop and told them to show me exotic sarees. Nothing pleased
me. The irate shopkeeper said - You go to Dhakeswari, you will get what you are
looking for. I followed the direction and walked and walked. The other
pedestrians too said the same thing -
just ahead Sir, please find that red compound and enter. By the time I
saw the red sandstone walls I was at the end of my patience. At last when I
fronted the structure it was a temple. Someone looked at my suited frame and
went on his way . I was not welcome nor
was I inclined to enter. But who is this Dhakeswari and why? Well,
everything is divine in this country .
But what gift shall I buy for her here?
I removed my shoes and entered ;
asked someone in saffron for the sindur.
He gave me in a bel leaf. I gave him
some money and headed back. But after a few minutes I discovered that I was in
a different street beyond my recognition. The shops were gone, the crowds were
gone. only a few shops , a diagnostic
centre and very few vehicles , mostly bikes, on the road. I looked at the bel
leaf, red and shining, the best gift for my love which finally I held in my hand: but where am I? Am I in my
country or what? I asked some persons to tell me from where I had come and how
to go back? None could advise me . It was time to head for the Airport. But I
did not note down the contact number of the driver. How to contact him? I had
my return ticket in my coat pocket and enough
money. In desperation I telephoned my hosts to instruct the driver to move
towards the Airport and wait for me there with my suitcase. I waved a
willing taxi to take me to the Airport and entered the taxi. While trying to
leave a sigh of relief I noticed my hands - the bel leaf was not there. My gift
was lost.
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