Confessions of a Optimistic Self-critique

I am not spoilt, just someone who knows what she wants in life and optimistic and confident that she will get it all.

Calcutta's Coldest

Calcutta saw its coldest Dec 23 in 8 years yesterday: recorded 55F

I do not want to go back to single-digit-Fahrenheit, butt-freezing weather of white knuckles, blue earlobes and numb chin. 

Twenty seven Christmas eves

Christmas used to be real family time--way more than festivals that are fastidiously mine, via nativity;--festivals, I miss and crave to be with family on. But really Christmas always meant special Ma-and-me time without unwanted intermissions-- like a bunch of visiting relatives or to-do rituals that clouded quality time. It used to be about the prettiest ornaments, school concerts, my favorite tree in our balcony, the mica glitter that stuck to my sweaty nose even when decorating was over.  It was true surprise at getting gifts, devout faith in Santa Clause, it was all about magical times, almost as magical as my Birthdays...ah Bandel.

Four years down, Calcutta was different, I no longer had the niche; but I had more than a few, too eager to make me happy. I missed my trees, my extensive time with Ma and most of all my space. But those were the first years of buying gifts, finding the joy in giving. It was discovering New Market and Calcutta decking up for the holidays. It was a part of falling in love with a city that would make me love cities for a long time to come.

I don't know when it became about just a holiday so crowded picnic-getaways; just another evening and day ritual, that I have to do. The same reason, in spite of being a stickler to rule, I don't enjoy most of my native festivities any more, too much compulsion without explanations or logic.

A part of me wonders what the hype is about white Christmas, as much as I hate snow. The other part reminds me of a time when I would not take anything dispel the Mother-Daughter time.

More recently, Christmas, sadly, is best spent in thin air, a day I utilize flying, because of the cheapest rates. And while I enjoy the chime of bargain-deals in my head, I cant help but think how unfortunate is she, who is nowhere on Christmas day, who is not expected or welcome anywhere?

When did Christmas become a regular Sunday? An unfortunate long weekend, when really no sense traveling because it is so cold. I read no traveling as no celebrating. I have forgotten how to celebrate in the warmth of my own family room, the mind wanders for answers in the outside world, whereas maybe happiness is tucked somewhere under a cushion and a throw on a couch. Maybe if I had a home where I belonged more than the other 3, I would know how to make magic from cookies and cocoa, mash potatoes and gravy, and silver, blue, green and red ornaments; maybe I would know how to go back to 1989 again.

A Little Charity

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Kukee and Us

facebook Kolika Chatterjee 8:58pm Dec 9th 10 years with my best friend To kolika.chatterjee@blogger.com There are so many more memories, that only you and I share, like how the first morning with you, you barked at me and I couldnt get off the bed because I was scared of dogs and the door was locked from inside so no one could 'rescue' me from you. Sep 16 1999. That's probably why I was always the 'stupid one' between us. You are wiser than me, more realized than me. If I was even close to what you are, I'd probably know where you are now. All I can hope for is you're at peace and you're happy and comfortable. That you've met Ghotai and can somehow still understand me. It was nice growing up with you, and not having you as a pet, but as an equal. No one else might think so, but you and I sure did. I'll always be lonely without you. I love you. Kolika has shared a link to an album with you. To view the album or to reply to the message, follow this link: http://www.facebook.com/p.php?i=9374431&k=R3BX44VQT55G6BAERA6ZVSRYRWEC265EWQ&oid=1296429494835 She was not always the saint everyone thought she was. I remember her being locked in Mom's room for a couple hours and she ripped her clothes off and peed all over them. She used to have gala times with the kitchen trash basket, especially eggshells and veggie-skins. Not so surprised now that Ghotu was her daughter, huh? She was quiet, bordering on stealthy, loved stealing shondesh from any plates left on the center table by the guests.  She was quiet to a fault but would yell your ears off if you entered what she considered her place to protect--Mom's bedroom. She hated Santosh. and she bit the priest.  She held her daughters by the ear if they climbed on Mom's bed or squabbled amongst themselves or in any way deserved to be disciplined. I saw her go from a girl to a woman, a mother. Someone who would bite and chew of any available smell of bone, became a supine feeder for her hungry, greedy, mischievous daughters. I saw her go from a fun loving chirpy youth to a ferocious protective Mom suckling her tiny babies.  And she saw me weave my way through moves and boys--juvenile to more, from one failure to another. And looked at me, like she was about to burst into a plethora of words and advice and rebuke.  She's around now, telling me to go back to work, to go to sleep early, to do whats prudent, to realize. Maybe someday. Hopefully soon.