Abakase Dekha, photo essay by Siddhant Goswami
This story comes from the chaos of the faraway city. This story comes from a home situated in Jaldhaka. This story stays among the hills of Jaldhaka. I have always wanted to spend time residing at a strangers’ place, listen to their stories. A home made of wood, the windows or the doors that have never perceived the aroma of a city. I arrived at this place when the trees were shedding their leaves, the sunlight emanating a tinge of wintry feels, the waves thudding forcefully against the hilly boulders, chipped broken pathways leading into the dense foliage. I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word.
In the month of September I went to Jaldhaka on a vacation. I was staying at my brother’s quarter. As there was no one to cook for me, I used to have my meals in the canteen at my brother’s office. One fine morning, I met Subash, the head cook at Hidal Electric Powerhouse. I went to his house a couple of times, not invited. I spent time gossiping with their children, or taking a stroll with his elder son or a quick swimming with his younger son. Subash fed me with couple of eatables many a times. Every day I used to go to his canteen, to have the first cup of tea of the day. I talked about cinema as well as music with his elder daughter. In the evening we used to sit in his dining room and talk. His younger daughter was learning consonants and vowels from the elder one. Locals from that area used to play carom every evening. Subash used to join them, after returning from work. His daughters would soon be heading to Falakata, Alipurduar district, as soon as their exams get over. On the other hand, his elder son would be headed to Kalimpong to attend a relative’s wedding.
Subash is no more a stranger.
(by Siddhant Goswami)