Just a hint of nostalgia...

picture courtesy: Ritwik Goswami

Was reading the editorial page of The Telegraph yesterday. A certain columnist wrote about "Paramount". I don't know if it was the horrible weather or my joblessness or my frustration over a few situations,but I started reeling back to some old days. The days I spent in my last three (well,almost) at 86/1. I know it's too early to talk about all of this and I should probably stock it all up and write some other time,probably just when I'm passing out or something,but I believe in no occasions. I remember Aafu on our last day in school crying and making her face red and almost having hiccups after coming down the makeshift stage of our stupid marble-walled "hall" (whatever else were we suppose to call it?). Can't forget the expression on my dad's face when he came to the senior school bulding for the first time and asked to see the playground when he was standing right in front of it. More like the Circuit-ish expression "bhai yeh toh shuru hote hi khatam ho gaya!". I felt sorry for myself. But see...I'm digressing. The point I was making was,how I don't believe emotions need a perfect point in time to be expressed and done with. "Oh yes,I cried on my last day in college". No, I'm not party to that statement and I end up feeling rather cliched.

I had always been to Paramount with my two crazy comrades. Tucked away somewhere close to our beloved "Avi'd", we had missed Paramount a couple of times. We'd plop down on the bench on most hot summer afternoons and ramble away,sometimes laughing like maniacs,sometimes just keeping quiet. The slow 1970's model fans add to the comfort and oldish feel of the place.

Cocoa Malai was my all time favourite,mostly because green-mango gave me nausea. Peculiar south Indian,you'd say,but I have my defences ready. I hate yoghurt being manipulated. I can do justice to cartons of dahi just like that,but it's just UGH! otherwise. Modestly priced and heavenly,Paramount is a real challenge to most CCD and Barista outlets. Whiling away time on the marble table-bench furniture was easy. It was one such day when we were spending a lazy afternoon that I heard someone at the next table talking about my father. They didn't know me,but they said nice things about my dad. It was the first time something like that had happened. I hadn't narrated the incident after I came home obviously.

There was another trip to Paramount which was just before the beginning of our Part1 exams. CC and I, looking tense and rather worried,just walked towards Paramount without sparing a moment to think. That was the day we had collected our admit cards and needed the break to sip on daab sherbet. Pre-examination "I bet this question will come this time" and "tibetan-food" talk had proved to be the best stress busters.

Roaming on College street aimlessly or trying out the oily rolls in Tasty were things we did back then. We had infinite time in our hands,and even befriended the "Xerox dadu" whose shop was located in a labyrinth next to Tasty. When a class would get cancelled (or when we had Development classes :P) we knew the next few hours should be dedicated at Chakraborty-Chatterjee or Rupa . Selecting gifts,bumping into strangers (well,apparently!) or simply checking out books and flinching after seeing the prices, afternoons would just go by with simple things to do with empty pockets. Coffee house was another story altogether. The kabiraaji gave me nightmares weeks after we had gone there. The experiences,though,are not forgotten like the taste. They were those "fresh out of school" and "oh my God Rajarshi Basak is HERE TOO!!" experiences that are to be treasured forever.

Buying those little pakoras with the strange coloured chutney, screaming in the middle of the road when spotting unwanted guests from the past,haggling,getting screamed at by cycle van-pullers...life in the old world and life in the new world...how they converge...and the plethora of experiences which rise from there. The happy spot,they have found :)