Chapter 2: Jurithewriter has started writing her story.

These two are dad, Bharat Chandra Kalita ; and my mum, Lila Kalita. They were both as delectable as they look and with dispositions to match. My dad’s friends would tell me whenever we visited Mirza (I was raised and lived in Pune till 17 years of age) that dad and mum were seen as one of the most perfect marital alliance in the region and the moment the alliance was declared, everyone was in awe about how brilliant and beautiful their kids would be.

Well, it doesn’t usually work out that way.

So, the fact of the matter is that they were both good looking, academically brilliant (toppers in their respective times), dashing, articulate. Humans are never satisfied with what they have.

Let me tell you by example.

Palasbari, that’s where my roots lie (although I’ve never actually lived there), used to be a flourishing township on the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra in the early 1900s. The economy of the region used to be controlled by the Mohajans. Sotal Mohajan was an affluent timber and silk trader, his trade having reached as far as Sikkim. The Mohajans led a grand lifestyle in those times. Naturally, so did Sotal Mohajan and his 8 children. Like the seasons, life changes, unlike the seasons though not with the same predictability. Nevertheless, any alliance with the Mohajans was considered a privilege and glamorous.

Each rupee that was stashed away under Sotal Mohajans’ mattress disappeared along with his breath while being treated for a serious ailment. His eldest child, Bharat, begged the grocer to give him materials required for the death rituals promising him he would pay it back later. He was just 12 years old.

Durgeswar Kalita was regal, had European looks with light coloured irises and an entire family to match. He had a transferable government job in the agriculture department, was fluent in English and his family was an outlier in the smorgasbord that was formed by the innumerable ethnicities that makes up the North Eastern part of India.  His second child was clever, brilliant, stubborn and his favourite. Lila Kalita was raised with a lot of love, pride and privilege.

After Lila and Bharat got married, despite their pedigrees, they weren’t impressed with what they saw in each other. That didn’t stop them from giving birth to me a year after their marriage. I didn’t look like either of them and was quite a cry baby. Apparently mum would stand me in the centre of their courtyard when I would stubbornly decide not to stop the bawling and egg me to increase my decibels further.

Juri, aru jure (kaand)

Juri, (cry) louder.

And I would oblige.

Post scriptum: Let me wind up today by fixing the ‘loose ends.’ For those of you who are not from Assam, Mirza and Palasbari are twin townships. You could compare Mirza to New Delhi and Palasbari to Old Delhi. The Brahmaputra changed its course over the years, every monsoon the floods would devour homes of the Palasbarians. Those who lost their land then shifted to Mirza which neighboured Palasbari but on the farther side of the river. More about this later.