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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Friends / Friendship
- Published: 10/05/2020
The parting gift
Born 1952, M, from West Bengal, IndiaThe Parting Gift
Arun Kanti Chatterjee
akchatterjee.com
I was resting under a mango tree in a remote village in Bankura, after doing the Bank’s development jobs on a stifling midsummer day, when suddenly a big green mango fell on my head. As I writhed in pain a boy cringing in terror emerged from the tree. My pain and anger seemed to fade away seeing him- a typical innocent country boy with apologetic gesture. First aid over, he took me to his nearby house when his father scolded him and said, “We are extremely sorry, sir. Please have some rest here.” I took the offer immediately and intimated him that I was in search of a suitable house for my accommodation. “From today you will be residing in my child’s room with him. I hope this will stop his naughtiness.” He declared with a broad grin.
As manager of a nationalized Bank I had been transferred from Kolkata to this village a week ago and in spite of my best efforts I could not find any house before. I had to somehow make do lodging in sundry temporary shelters. Even this man, a cultivator, had earlier turned down my request made through my colleagues. Thanks to the unsavoury incident I found a home away from home in an obscure locality.
The boy, aged about 9 years, was Tito, who literally took charge of me when I was filled with a pang of nostalgia for my home town. For the first few days he was so much fascinated that it drove him to the point of speechlessness while he would watch me with large round eyes, the unfamiliar ways in which I would browse through the newspapers and magazines or use my cell phone to take snaps or chat. He was found to be lagging quite behind in all subjects, which was normal for him as they usually drop out early.
I would sleep at night listening to the child’s rustic stories. At five in the morning when sleep is sweet, I would be aroused by a series of magical sounds like the cuckoo’s cooing or the cock’s crowing followed by his dutiful call. I seemed to strike a chord with the little boy.
His interest covered playing games in abundant areas of delight, swimming, which reminded me of my childhood days in North Bengal in the sixties. It would provide him immense pleasure to fetch green mangoes for me since he had noticed that I relished mango pickle. As I gradually got quite familiar with rural life, I came to learn from him farming procedures, manuring, harvesting and walking along ridges in between the plot of tillage lands. His fantastic memory allowed me at times to forget to use the cell phone for reminders. Even in matters relating to the Bank’s business he was of great help in choosing the right potential customers as he knew everyone in my area of operation. On holidays he would take me to important sightseeing places or play grounds and I soon overcame the initial homesickness and Tito in turn proved to gradually improve in all realms, which impressed his parents to the hilt, much to their embarrassment though, at times, as they had initially declined to accommodate me in their house which provided shelter for their cattle and birds. I gifted him picture books on sundry occasions to build his ability to read, think and imagine. Tito in turn would collect eggs hatched by the hens and would invariably set aside one for my consumption. When I would go home he would pack my baggage carefully inserting green mangoes. Slowly we seemed to be bound by ties of kindred.
Time flew by and as my tenure at the branch came to a close, I was transferred to my home town in Kolkata soon. With this turn of events the news reached him since I had intimated the matter to his father well in advance as I would have to vacate the room anon. On the scheduled day of my departure I took leave of every member of the family who fondly recounted the memorable moments of our association, but Tito was nowhere to be seen. We frantically looked out and enquired anxiously for him as I had a lurking fear that he would not take such separation easily and despite our best efforts we could not locate him anywhere. But since everything was arranged I had to board the hired car to reach the railway station and came back home with fond memories. I was feeling happy to be reunited with my family members. My luggage was quite heavy and gradually I emptied all my bag and baggage. As I was taking out the clothes and other belongings from my favourite suitcase I noticed something tucked away in a corner. It was a carefully closed packet covering a bottle of mango pickle made from the choicest fruit with a label that read ‘ভালো থেকো’ (Take care).
© 2020 Arun Kanti Chatterjee All Rights Reserved.
The parting gift(A K Chatterjee)
The Parting Gift
Arun Kanti Chatterjee
akchatterjee.com
I was resting under a mango tree in a remote village in Bankura, after doing the Bank’s development jobs on a stifling midsummer day, when suddenly a big green mango fell on my head. As I writhed in pain a boy cringing in terror emerged from the tree. My pain and anger seemed to fade away seeing him- a typical innocent country boy with apologetic gesture. First aid over, he took me to his nearby house when his father scolded him and said, “We are extremely sorry, sir. Please have some rest here.” I took the offer immediately and intimated him that I was in search of a suitable house for my accommodation. “From today you will be residing in my child’s room with him. I hope this will stop his naughtiness.” He declared with a broad grin.
As manager of a nationalized Bank I had been transferred from Kolkata to this village a week ago and in spite of my best efforts I could not find any house before. I had to somehow make do lodging in sundry temporary shelters. Even this man, a cultivator, had earlier turned down my request made through my colleagues. Thanks to the unsavoury incident I found a home away from home in an obscure locality.
The boy, aged about 9 years, was Tito, who literally took charge of me when I was filled with a pang of nostalgia for my home town. For the first few days he was so much fascinated that it drove him to the point of speechlessness while he would watch me with large round eyes, the unfamiliar ways in which I would browse through the newspapers and magazines or use my cell phone to take snaps or chat. He was found to be lagging quite behind in all subjects, which was normal for him as they usually drop out early.
I would sleep at night listening to the child’s rustic stories. At five in the morning when sleep is sweet, I would be aroused by a series of magical sounds like the cuckoo’s cooing or the cock’s crowing followed by his dutiful call. I seemed to strike a chord with the little boy.
His interest covered playing games in abundant areas of delight, swimming, which reminded me of my childhood days in North Bengal in the sixties. It would provide him immense pleasure to fetch green mangoes for me since he had noticed that I relished mango pickle. As I gradually got quite familiar with rural life, I came to learn from him farming procedures, manuring, harvesting and walking along ridges in between the plot of tillage lands. His fantastic memory allowed me at times to forget to use the cell phone for reminders. Even in matters relating to the Bank’s business he was of great help in choosing the right potential customers as he knew everyone in my area of operation. On holidays he would take me to important sightseeing places or play grounds and I soon overcame the initial homesickness and Tito in turn proved to gradually improve in all realms, which impressed his parents to the hilt, much to their embarrassment though, at times, as they had initially declined to accommodate me in their house which provided shelter for their cattle and birds. I gifted him picture books on sundry occasions to build his ability to read, think and imagine. Tito in turn would collect eggs hatched by the hens and would invariably set aside one for my consumption. When I would go home he would pack my baggage carefully inserting green mangoes. Slowly we seemed to be bound by ties of kindred.
Time flew by and as my tenure at the branch came to a close, I was transferred to my home town in Kolkata soon. With this turn of events the news reached him since I had intimated the matter to his father well in advance as I would have to vacate the room anon. On the scheduled day of my departure I took leave of every member of the family who fondly recounted the memorable moments of our association, but Tito was nowhere to be seen. We frantically looked out and enquired anxiously for him as I had a lurking fear that he would not take such separation easily and despite our best efforts we could not locate him anywhere. But since everything was arranged I had to board the hired car to reach the railway station and came back home with fond memories. I was feeling happy to be reunited with my family members. My luggage was quite heavy and gradually I emptied all my bag and baggage. As I was taking out the clothes and other belongings from my favourite suitcase I noticed something tucked away in a corner. It was a carefully closed packet covering a bottle of mango pickle made from the choicest fruit with a label that read ‘ভালো থেকো’ (Take care).
© 2020 Arun Kanti Chatterjee All Rights Reserved.
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Jay Mitra
12/23/2022There is a particular variety of mango that goes by the name কাঁচামিঠে (sweet green mango). It is deceptive looking as unlike other raw green mangoes it is not sour but deliciously sweet.
This story is that Kaanchamithe mango, deceptively delicious!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
A K Chatterjee
12/24/2022I am glad that as a writer you have found the short story an enjoyable read. Thank you very much for reading and leaving very apt comments which have definitely enriched the piece.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Helsa
10/11/2020Sweet yet Strong and meaningful story that signifies a perfect bond! Keep Writing; Regards!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
A K Chatterjee
10/12/2020Thank you very much for reading and leaving such positive comments.
akchatterjee.com
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
10/05/2020That was an enjoyable read. I'm glad you made a friend, and that you both benefitted from the relationship. Thank you for sharing your true life story on Storystar, A.K.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
A K Chatterjee
10/06/2020Thank you very much for reading the story and leaving such apt comments. I shall be glad should you share it with your friends.
Akchatterjee.com
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
A K Chatterjee
10/05/2020Thank you very much for reading the story. You may kindly share the piece with your near and dear ones. Wish you all the best.
akchatterjee.com
COMMENTS (4)