I DUNNO WHY..

Breaking news to me. Or rather disasterous news. My eldest uncle, i.e. my dad’s eldest brother died yesterday morning. More disasterous news. I didn’t even know he existed. I mean I didn’t even know that my dad was one among 7brothers of which now 5 are no more.That’s just not fair. That is just so not fair. Its unfair cause I didn’t know I had uncles.Its unfair that the fact I was never made aware of my dad’s side of the family.Its unfair cause I don’t know how to feel.What am i? what kind of daughter am i? what kind of niece am i? what kind of grand daughter am  i?

After a real long time.. I had a real conversation with my dad. Yes, a real long one. Without any arguments or raising of voice or without anyone walking off. This one lasted for like 20minutes. But trust me, it really seemed very long.

I was busy cutting vegetables in the kitchen, preparing myself to cook breakfast. That’s something I do almost every Sunday morning. Nothing seemed different this Sunday. Everything was normal. I mean the peacefully-normal. No arguments, no shouting, no screaming, nothing. Me and mom stood beside each other busy having our girl-talk about the neighbors of who roams around with whom, who goes where, etc, etc. basically gossiping

That’s what people say when two females are together chatting. But we women call it  just normal girl-talk that almost every daughter-mother share.

The dogs were fast asleep on their rugs near the dining space. The windows open for the cool breeze to cleanse away the smell of wet dog in the house. The drizzling rain, seeing children playing in the rain splashing puddle water at each other. Still in the night suit, messed up hair, Sipping a cup of hot ginger tea. Chatting up with mom. Making shopping plans for upcoming festivals. The radio tuned into 91.1 fm, playing one of the most melodious song “kabhi kabhi mere dil me..khayaal aata hai..”With me and mom singing along, morning couldn’t have been better.

Then something happened that I was fearing fot the last 15minutes.All this gets disrupted by the dark lord. (to all the HP fans, I don’t mean voldemort when I say the dark lord.) I meant my dad walks into the house, all soaked up in the rain. As he walks in, everyone is in fear. Not in fear of him. Fear of him  fondling with the radio antenna and ruining away the perfect tuning that I have to manage everytime it goes off tune. He doesn’t like radio on full volume, doesn’t like fans to  be switched on until its too hot. Doesn’t like too much noise made when vessels are being cleaned.

But today he was,mmm.. what should I say? In one of his good pasta mood?
he was fine with the songs. He was fine that the radio-jockey kept yapping after every single song. He was fine with the lights switched on even during the day. He wanted to have pasta for breakfast, and maybe a movie for lunch and maybe a evening walk with family in the evening. I was staring at dad  so much that I thought that my eye balls would actually pop out like marbles.

Before I could say yes to any of those to dad, I quietly whispered to mom “am I still asleep dreaming about this whole scene or did dad just say all that??” she too looked surprised for a few seconds, then went back to her work. And so did i.

Mom was almost done, after which the whole kitchen was mine. I would be at  peace for the next 10 minutes without mom telling me how to cook a pasta. I mean , come on, everyone know knows how to cook  pasta!

I was in my own world, humming on my favorite tune, dancing around the fridge when I accidently dash into dad. (uh-oh!) i asked him if he wanted something. He said yes, before I could tell him that pasta was almost done, he broke the news. Bade papa is no more. And I was “what?? Who is no more?”

Dad seemed very upset, his eyes were little watery. Maybe trying hard to control his tears. I looked away incase he wanted to wipe them away. Keeping the stove on sim to let the pasta cook slowly, I went to the hall where he sat with 2 days before’s newspaper in hand. He pretended to be reading when I interrupted him saying that today’s newspaper was still on the dining table.

He knew I had noticed. He knew that I knew that he was trying too avoid a conversation. But I just sat there. Didn’t ask him anything. Maybe cause I myself didn’t know what to say. Or ask.

He took a deep breathe. Clenched his fists tightly and let go of his breathe and his hands. He spoke. Spoke for 20minutes without me interrupting. I just listened. I know he wanted someone to just hear him out. I thought I was better option. I volunteered. I was chosen. The story started this way.

“Yesterday I got a call from a friend fro bihar. But while talking, someone snatched away the phone,I said hello 2-3- times. No answer from the other side. Then someone spoke. I rocognsed that voice. It was my brother. He spoke for barely 3 minutes. My head started spinning. My hands were shaking. It felt like there was an earthquake. I looked around. All looked fine. Maybe it wasn’t an earth quake. Maybe its just me. I keep down the phone. Sat in my cubicle. Stared at the wall for don’t know how long.i left for home. Throught out the journey, I kept silent. Came home, told your mom about the call. She too was silent. Didn’t say anything. Continued staring at the tv screen.

My borda (big brother in Bengali) was the eldest one among all the 7 brothers. He stayed in bihar itself. Was somewhere around 89years old. The eldest brother. A father-like figure. He toiled all day long, to bring back food to feed us when we younger brothers  were little kids. He worked real hard. Specially for me cause I was the youngest of all. He made sure that I was not bullied by the other brothers. He made sure I was not the last one to get whatever he bought for all of us. He made sure that even if others left studies half way, I should complete my education. He made me a B.A grad. He slogged so much. He went to work on feet, but sent me by cycle. He sometimes slept without food. But made sure my stomach was full. He was my father when I did something wrong. My brother when I needed help. My best friend when I needed to share my thoughts. He made me what I am today. He was my godfather

And yesterday, I got a called. Borda is no more. Left us for ever. I feel so bad. I’ve let him down I couldn’t even be there when he breathed his last. Since yesterday I’ve been thinking, only if I could have met him one more time. Maybe spoken to him one more time. If only I hade made out some time from my schedule to meet him. If only I had done something.

But noe time has gone. You know Pooja, he had been to your rice ceremony. And you have got many features of borda. You’ve got his height. He was 6’5”. He too had hugh feet and was difficult ti find shoes of his size. The same is with you. And you have his smile. I’ll be going there for the work on the 13^th day. Will meet everyone who’s left in my family. Don’t know when i’ll get to see them again.”

Dad was about to get up and leave, when I stopped him. I wanted to know more. More of the family whom I had never seen. He continued.  I asked him about thakurma (grandmother in Bengali). He said she too is no more. She died two weeks before I was born. I guess I was named after  her. No reason dad sometimes calls me maa. I always wondered why. Now I know why.

After dad left, I still sat there. Thinking, what to think? How to feel? what to feel? Should I be sad? Should I try to talk to them? Should I go meet them? Am confused. Very confused. There is some weird feeling am going through. Is it pain? Agony? Hurt? Whatever it is! But the main question is.. why?? Why me?

I never met them. I never knew them. I never saw them I never loved them. Then why the pain of losing them? Why the pain of they not being there? Why the deep wish of wanting to see them? Why the urge to ask dad more about them? Why the want to see them? I guess I’ll never know. I guess I’ll never know why!

                    -just me.