Posts Tagged ‘love’
Mahalaya on the heels of a memory
This year Mahalaya came on the heels of my Grandmother’s remembrance day. I was looking through some photos of hers. One reminded me of her fondness for Darjeeling tea. Back when I was in college, I lived with her for three years. Our shared morning tea continues to be a strong memory. She would get the tea from somewhere near Sealdah station – possibly Kolay market and possibly Subodh Brother’s. I remember walking with her once. It is just a memory of crowded streets – hot day, humans jostling, rickshaws honking, cigarette smoke, and colorful banners. I definitely recall being fascinated with bulk tea, my first and possibly last experience of seeing bulk tea leaves.
Mom recalls that my grandmother had a good eye for mushrooms and would often forage for them from surrounding gardens when they lived in Garia. Garia back in those days was semi-rural, with tons of ponds, banana trees, bamboo and other tropical vegetation. I asked chatGPT to draw an image of my grandmother, based on the frayed photo, foraging for mushrooms and something wonderful happened.
Mom also recalls the mushrooms to be white and rather large (6 inches diameter) with white gills. She remembers their amazing taste. I would have to look up Bengali mushroom recipes sometime. From my research, it is likely to be Wika Chhatu (aka Hunda Chhatu), scientific name Termitomyces heimii or Termitomyces eurhizus, often associated with termite mounds. The word Chhatu is derived from the word Chhata, for umbrella. This variety are renowned for their exceptional umami, chicken-like texture. They have a prominent, sharp central bump (umbo) on the cap, pure white gills underneath, and a very long, rigid, root-like stem extending deep underground into a termite nest. In the 1960s, before Garia underwent heavy urban development, the area had dense vegetation, ponds, and bamboo groves where undisturbed termite mounds thrived. These termite-mound mushrooms are completely wild, native to West Bengal, and emerge exclusively during the heavy monsoon rains.
Last year, on Mahalaya, the first day of Durga pujo, which had arrived in September, we were star gazing at Paicines. It was our first sighting of Andromeda galaxy (link). This September, Andromeda photography happened from home courtyard.
This Mahalaya on October 10, a Saturday morning here and evening in India, I am sitting on my own listening to Chandi Path (link). We might be at Fremont Peak later tonight shooting a challenging broadband target. Chances are slim, the Fremont Peak Observatory Association (FPOA) website warns, “We have concerns about Saturday’s weather because low clouds might reach the Observatory’s height. By Saturday afternoon, we should have a clearer picture, as a successful evening may hinge on a difference of just a few hundred feet. We are also monitoring high clouds; one forecast suggests they might be approaching from the south.“
On shoulders of giants
This photo isn’t my memory. It is my mom’s memory. I was too young to remember. I have memories of seeing this photo in my mom’s album. I do remember dad’s watch. He wore it for many years. It was a little loose on his wrist and would invariable climb up or down and swing about. I remember his glasses. Again, he wore them for many many years. They went out of fashion and came back into fashion during his lifetime. I remember his thick curly black hair. In my childhood photos, my hair is curly like his. I remember his broad shoulders and his chest press machine. He had a resting unhappy face but he would laugh very easily. I am like that too. I have inherited his hands and feet as well, narrow and small.
After he passed away last year, I read tributes of his colleagues. Many remembered him very fondly. One story touched my heart especially. This was someone who was newly posted to his office, the National Institute of Communicable Disease (NICD), India’s equivalent of CDC. In those days, job postings of civil servants was decided by government committees. It was his first day and he was nervously waiting to speak to my dad whom he only knew by reputation. Dad had kept him waiting for a bit. And then when they met, dad bombarded him with many technical questions. This colleague had felt that my dad’s interview was a lot harder than what he had gone through in the government’s bureaucratic process. At the end of the interview, he was assigned his first job by my dad and that job was to present the office at a prestigious conference the very next day. He was scared at first to speak at the conference, but as he participated, he felt more and more confident, eventually coming out feeling victorious. He went on to work with my dad for many years and referred to my dad as a great mentor of his.
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As I live, I gain memories. But as I live, I lose many of these memories. This is my attempt to hold on to some memories dearly.
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