The Lone Lady
The car stopped outside my Grandmother’s red brick house at the dead end of Ashok Row in Ganguly Bagan, Kolkata. I got off the car and stood there awhile to absorb the view of the house. The mango and the coconut trees in the surrounding garden spilled out of the brick wall demarcating it. The Rongon plant outside the main door stood as usual, spiralling its branches across the grills of the verandah, occasionally bursting out in red and mauve flowers. The house had not changed one bit, I thought. As I opened the blue gate and entered the house, Ma’s wall art of Buddha’s ‘Enlightenment’ greeted me. The walls had been freshly painted a nice tinge of sea-green, leaving out the section of the wall art. The remnants of the old white wall could be seen smiling from the back of the artwork. Beneath the painting was Ma’s signature – “ Rashmi, 1965 ”. But this was not my favourite of Ma’s paintings in the house. I walked ahead and rang the bell. “Hi Dida!” I scream...
