My favourite aunt sat on a humungous four poster bed . She had it brought all the way from her family mansion in the village and had it reassembled in the centre of her bedroom . Then , she had an assortment of mattresses placed on it . Then , came her favourite floral patterned bed sheet. Large purple flowers with a showy yellow centre . Dots for pollens , large parrot green leaves , red and pink butterflies darting in and out of this dense foliage . It was like sitting atop a jungle .
Then she had a hubble -bubble . She would shout for the boy , and he would rush in , blowing gently at red hot embers of burning cow dung cakes . He would reverentially place them in a scrubbed brass pot , and tobacco and water in other two interconnected pots . It was an intricate process, very fascinating to watch . Then he would yank a crisp hanky out of his pocket , place it gently on the mouth piece and take a gentle , a very gentle drag . Satisfied , coughing , he then would proffer her the tube . She would accept , like a high priestess , and he would bow away , his eyes streaming , red with smoke .
There was a rumour that this aunt was a" begum "of sorts , in her village . No one knew for sure . It was Kolkata , the metropolis , and a great leveller. Others said she was just a rich heiress. Either way , we knew she had migrated from Bangladesh . She spoke fondly of her village "haveli" , and stories of fabulous wealth .
She had a shrine to her selection of Gods and godmen installed in her room . A huge bunch of thick handmade incense sticks would burn at this altar , all the day long . That made her room real smoky . The Hookah and the altar .
I have vivid memories of entering her room , and seeing her sitting atop that mound of a bed , cross legged,black curly hair open , clad in a handloom saree , wreathed in smoke . She reminded me of the character absolem created by lewis caroll
Then there was the steady stream of tea and snacks . Her kitchen was like a factory , manned by her ageing , widowed sister. There would be smells of mustard oil tadka, fish being fried and rice boiling , sounds of hissing , crackling and cookers whistling all the time .
Millions of rosogolla , kachagolla and myriad varieties of sondeshes found their way into the house. As if that was not enough , visitors from the villages brought naadus and joynogorer moas.
Crabs crawl desultorily inside buckets.
Then she had a hubble -bubble . She would shout for the boy , and he would rush in , blowing gently at red hot embers of burning cow dung cakes . He would reverentially place them in a scrubbed brass pot , and tobacco and water in other two interconnected pots . It was an intricate process, very fascinating to watch . Then he would yank a crisp hanky out of his pocket , place it gently on the mouth piece and take a gentle , a very gentle drag . Satisfied , coughing , he then would proffer her the tube . She would accept , like a high priestess , and he would bow away , his eyes streaming , red with smoke .
There was a rumour that this aunt was a" begum "of sorts , in her village . No one knew for sure . It was Kolkata , the metropolis , and a great leveller. Others said she was just a rich heiress. Either way , we knew she had migrated from Bangladesh . She spoke fondly of her village "haveli" , and stories of fabulous wealth .
She had a shrine to her selection of Gods and godmen installed in her room . A huge bunch of thick handmade incense sticks would burn at this altar , all the day long . That made her room real smoky . The Hookah and the altar .
I have vivid memories of entering her room , and seeing her sitting atop that mound of a bed , cross legged,black curly hair open , clad in a handloom saree , wreathed in smoke . She reminded me of the character absolem created by lewis caroll
Then there was the steady stream of tea and snacks . Her kitchen was like a factory , manned by her ageing , widowed sister. There would be smells of mustard oil tadka, fish being fried and rice boiling , sounds of hissing , crackling and cookers whistling all the time .
Millions of rosogolla , kachagolla and myriad varieties of sondeshes found their way into the house. As if that was not enough , visitors from the villages brought naadus and joynogorer moas.
Crabs crawl desultorily inside buckets.
