The Land of Congruence

Calcutta, 2012
Here is the guy one would have killed for, walking beside me on the busy sidewalk of Esplanade. On the right, across the road, is the iconic Maidan – A large expanse of free land right in the heart of the city. My heart goes out for him when he says,

-I like this city. It has got a different vibe, an amusing vibe, an interesting vibe. I want to stay here with you just one more day. Please, baby.

-Is it the city or me?

-Undoubtedly you, but you in this city. I cannot imagine Calcutta without you. For me, a part of Calcutta’s charm, a major part indeed, comes from you.

I was flattered. I could see dust in the rays of setting sun. Right at this moment, if he hadn’t come, I would have been running along the edge of the football field of my campus. They say Kharagpur’s got just two things – Uselessly extended railway platforms and my campus, IIT. I think it’s got much more than that. It’s got the sheer quietness amidst the plush greenery that is so quintessential of West Bengal. So when I am walking on the streets of Esplanade, I am reminded of how the institute first started somewhere here, to be specific, on the eastern side of where I am – we are – walking. When I come to think of it, it is not such a bad idea to start an institute in a detention camp.

Kharagpur, 1956
The sparks in the eyes of the future of this country are clearly visible. There are many more to emerge and much more to come. When I see these young graduates, I see not the students, but the seeds of betterment with the hope that one day when all of my generation would have died, this country would need them and even though I would not exist, I would be happy knowing that at some point of time, I had issued them books in the library. Anyway, let me get back to listening to what Nehru ji is saying

“…Here in the place of that Hijli Detention Camp stands the fine monument of India, representing India’s urges, India’s future in the making. This picture seems to me symbolical of the changes that are coming to India.”

Calcutta, 2012
-Where are you lost? (He asks)

-What?

-What are you thinking? What happened?

-Nothing. (I smile)

-So we are not going back to Kharagpur. Or are we?

-I think we should. (I smile, again. My cheekbones are paining)

-Why?

-Because you have your train to catch tomorrow and I do not want the last minute panic. (I wish I could have said because I like it better there.)

I think I can open up to you, dear reader. So let me state it right away – I do not love him. This is one fact I am very sure of. I like him, as does every other girl, no doubt, but we are as different as the sky and the land. I have chased the horizon in the pursuit of discovering their meeting place but as it turns out the whole concept of horizon is an illusion. So is what we have between us.

-Okay. (He makes a puppy face) When is our train back to Kharagpur?

-I think we’ve got time.

-What do you want to do now?

-Bookstore?

This is what I am talking about. I know he will join me in the bookstore. I know he will never say no. I know that for sure. Because, as he says, he loves me. But this question, this display of extending an opportunity to reconsider my recommendation and suggest an alternative that interests him too – this is what I have an issue with.

-Yes, bookstore.

-Let’s go. (I told you he will never say no)

I know it is not his fault. I am just stating the fact that we are very different. Throughout history and in the deepest of human conscience, we are always in the pursuit of looking for our own image in others. This pursuit never ends for anyone. When you think you’ve found one, you keep looking for an even higher degree of you-ness . In the journey of self-discovery in others, you fall in love, you make friends, you make amends. And if you settle in for someone who doesn’t have an iota of your image, because you think no two souls are congruent or because you’ve gotten tired of searching, you inevitably start to doubt yourself.

As for me, I guess I should make use of this opportunity, go to the bookstore and inhale the aroma of paperbacks and feel the toughness of hard-bounds. I will balance it out for him by going to Flury’s, which you would have guessed, I hate.

—

Calcutta, 2012. Same Evening. Same Street. A Different Couple
We had been walking for quite a while when I spot the couple entering the bookstore I’ve always wanted to go. So I tell her

-Hey. Can we go to that bookstore? I guess we’ve still got time before the movie starts.

We had planned to watch a glossy college romance flick. Actually she had. I had joined in.

-Bookstore?
-What’s wrong in a bookstore?
-(She smiles) There’s nothing wrong, sweetheart. But I so wanted to have the cheesecake from The Street.

The Street was a Deli-cum-Pub, 400 meters away from the bookstore.

-Then let’s go there (I say). We can always come back here.
-Thank you. I love you.
-I love you too.

While passing by the bookstore, I peep inside it through its large French windows. I see the girl (of the couple whom I’d just seen entering) surfing through the pages of a book beside a green wooden shelf and the guy, standing a bit far, looking around disinterested, as if waiting for her and indirectly asking her to hurry up.

I’ve already started to like her. Maybe, someday I will get to know her. Or someone like her. Someone, who loves books as much as I do. I could see in the way she was not just reading but experiencing the bookstore, that she was mesmerized by it, as I was. Right at that moment, at that instant of time, I wanted to rush into the store, take the book she was reading in one hand, grab her by her waist with the other and kiss her. A gentle, mild kiss in the middle of green teak-wood shelves filled with knowledge and stories.

Yes, I would like to meet her. Some day. Hold her hand and gift her a book. Not at the horizon, because as they say it’s an illusion, but on the land – the land of congruence between the two of us. A beach would be a great place. What do you think?

—
Afternote:
1. This story is the result of multiple accumulated discussions I have had with few very close ones. Thank you.
2. The song on my mind while writing the final portion of the story.