'Name-Place-Animal-Thing! That was the name of the game!' yelled Mishti. 'And I want to play it now! Right now!' All around her, a noble ensemble of nurses and relatives, well-wishers too, stood still, quite unprepared for this complete reversal of out-pour. Mishti mashi as she was well called and known as, used to be the polite one, the one who only smiled at the local grocery's, or never haggled with the rickshaw-pullers. Her taant saree would always be crisply ironed when she left for school, and returned with the same precision, as if it had never traveled anywhere. Two years down her retirement, the sarees kept stacking higher, gathering creased lines asymmetric to their patterns, in her old, rusty almirah.
She had always lived here, for as long as her neighbours could recall. While all their buildings underwent drastic changes, her's remained as stoic as her. Rumour was she chose this life of a recluse post the disappearance of her husband, Uttiyo Sengupta, a marine engineer. The three months that they would be together, were the best of the years; Mishti loved lingering over those same memories, in her evenings and nights. They had a son, Upen; whose name she later changed to Uttiyo. 'The name must be cursed' many remarked. Uttiyo junior was a champion athlete, who was currently serving his time in a rehabilitation after being publicly ridiculed for being charged on testing positive for illegal substance abuse.
A week ago, she received a letter from him. Happily, she opened it, even before finishing her lunch.
Maa,
These people are good. I have only one complain, they do not permit me to run. No maa, I didn't mean to run away from here; I merely meant running, exercising, being physically able-bodied. I think the Sports Authority may have a hand on this. They wouldn't want me back in the forum, in form. I had a dawn dream, maa. As you say, they come true. I was outperforming my own pole-vault record. I saw that I tried it again, happily, surprised with my result. This time, I didn't land. I flew off the pole. The stars were singing, "Uttiyo, Uttiyo, Numero-Uttiyo!"
Baba was there too, applauding my jump. When I did fall, I was amidst the song of wasps on fluttering petals, under waves. It didn't make sense. It seemed like poems you used to read to Baba. I made friends, Bibek - the eagle, Salim - the tiger, Dinesh - the dolphin. We played 'Name-Place-Animal-Thing'. They were not competitors. But they knew the "Uttiyo, Uttiyo, Numero-Uttiyo!" chant and they soared, roared and dove it about.
I wish this dream comes true maa, but I know it won't, without me not trying for it. So, tonight I will jump from the top terrace. Nilesh has helped me figure the way out. I will meet Baba and convey your pain to him. I know you miss him maa. Why didn't you ever marry anyone else? I could have stayed Upen that way.
Yet, I remain your Numero-Uttiyo.
Before Mishti could get through to the rehab, night at the earliest when calls could be made, the call came in. She knew it the moment the phone rang. "Mrs Sengupta, we are sorry to inform you that your son, Uttiyo committed suicide" they had said as plainly as they could have said, "There is no sugar in the tea."
The week took a toll on her. The maid reported about her condition to the next of her kin, who immediately arranged her to be admitted to an asylum of repute. Letter in her hand, she only kept saying, 'Name-Place-Animal-Thing! That was the name of the game! And I want to play it now! Right now!' All around her, a noble ensemble of nurses and relatives, well-wishers too, stood still, quite unprepared for this complete reversal of out-pour.
Mishti was torn to bits. Within herself though, she was only enjoying an off-period with Uttiyo.
She had always lived here, for as long as her neighbours could recall. While all their buildings underwent drastic changes, her's remained as stoic as her. Rumour was she chose this life of a recluse post the disappearance of her husband, Uttiyo Sengupta, a marine engineer. The three months that they would be together, were the best of the years; Mishti loved lingering over those same memories, in her evenings and nights. They had a son, Upen; whose name she later changed to Uttiyo. 'The name must be cursed' many remarked. Uttiyo junior was a champion athlete, who was currently serving his time in a rehabilitation after being publicly ridiculed for being charged on testing positive for illegal substance abuse.
A week ago, she received a letter from him. Happily, she opened it, even before finishing her lunch.
Maa,
These people are good. I have only one complain, they do not permit me to run. No maa, I didn't mean to run away from here; I merely meant running, exercising, being physically able-bodied. I think the Sports Authority may have a hand on this. They wouldn't want me back in the forum, in form. I had a dawn dream, maa. As you say, they come true. I was outperforming my own pole-vault record. I saw that I tried it again, happily, surprised with my result. This time, I didn't land. I flew off the pole. The stars were singing, "Uttiyo, Uttiyo, Numero-Uttiyo!"
Baba was there too, applauding my jump. When I did fall, I was amidst the song of wasps on fluttering petals, under waves. It didn't make sense. It seemed like poems you used to read to Baba. I made friends, Bibek - the eagle, Salim - the tiger, Dinesh - the dolphin. We played 'Name-Place-Animal-Thing'. They were not competitors. But they knew the "Uttiyo, Uttiyo, Numero-Uttiyo!" chant and they soared, roared and dove it about.
I wish this dream comes true maa, but I know it won't, without me not trying for it. So, tonight I will jump from the top terrace. Nilesh has helped me figure the way out. I will meet Baba and convey your pain to him. I know you miss him maa. Why didn't you ever marry anyone else? I could have stayed Upen that way.
Yet, I remain your Numero-Uttiyo.
Before Mishti could get through to the rehab, night at the earliest when calls could be made, the call came in. She knew it the moment the phone rang. "Mrs Sengupta, we are sorry to inform you that your son, Uttiyo committed suicide" they had said as plainly as they could have said, "There is no sugar in the tea."
The week took a toll on her. The maid reported about her condition to the next of her kin, who immediately arranged her to be admitted to an asylum of repute. Letter in her hand, she only kept saying, 'Name-Place-Animal-Thing! That was the name of the game! And I want to play it now! Right now!' All around her, a noble ensemble of nurses and relatives, well-wishers too, stood still, quite unprepared for this complete reversal of out-pour.
Mishti was torn to bits. Within herself though, she was only enjoying an off-period with Uttiyo.
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