Somehow the new place had me a lot distracted and blogging
took a back seat. I guess I miss the spot on my bed back home where I have a
left a deep dent, proof that it belonged to an unsocial, introverted person. Well,
it still does. Here if the new bed is making me homesick then also the cold is
a little crippling. I don’t feel the pressure of its sharp teeth on my arse as
long as I am roaming about outside. But once I am back in my room I don’t feel
like keeping my unprotected hands out of the comfort of my newly purchased made
in China polyester blanket. As far as excuses go this is not bad, eh? Right now
I am sitting on a little rectangular of patch sunlight pouring through the
window and having tea with some delicious Nepali snack and trying to get past
my silly excuse and jog my brain.
I am living with a widow Nepali lady and her seven years old
son as a paying guest. I live on the first floor. No roommate. I have an open
terrace just outside my room where I go onto first thing in the morning to look
whether Kanchenjungha is visible or not. The same terrace makes me drink less
water at night so I don’t have to use the toilet which is just outside my room
on the terrace itself. My landlady L is a short, plump, cheery looking woman in
her mid thirties or might be less. I am bad at guessing people’s age. I know
the son’s age because I snooped at his school ID lying on the table. L is a
chilled out landlady. She doesn’t put any restrictions. She loves to chat. She addresses me as Koyel. And I always respond. So
far I have realized that she has a deep sorrow about her and somewhat given up
on life since her husband died about four years ago. The son, L jr. is a good
kid but can be a terror at times. The other day he came into my room to watch Fantastic Beasts and where to find them
on my laptop and practiced boxing on me. God bless quilted jacket. I silently
watch him and think, god IF I ever become a mother please bless me with a baby
girl only. Raising a son is not my cup of tea.
My office here is situated in a rented house. Due to the
political situation and a lack of vacant land my department never cared to get
a permanent building. The landlord of my office building Mr. S is a seventy
years old man who used to work as a tea taster and now owns multiple shops in
Darjeeling. He lives in a century old wooden bungalow with his wife and sister
in law. Mrs. S has four sisters, of whom I met two so far. The one that lives
with them and one from Kalimpong. Their kids, nieces, nephews are scattered all
over the world. For some unknown reason the family has taken a great fancy in
me and every weekend I am roaming about here with Mr. S who is more than eager
to show me around. He is apparently a big shot in Darjeeling. His late elder
brother was DSP here. So every day he is introducing me to new people. Not to
mention he even took me to all the shops where the shopkeepers gave me great
discount. But unfortunately so far all the people I am hanging out with are all
elderly and mostly senior citizens.
The one thing I am missing a lot here is dog. Although Darjeeling
is full of big, fluffy hill dogs but they are not so sociable. They are not
hostile but they don’t like to interact much either. Whole day they lie in the
sun and sleep. I miss my Calcutta dogs. However the other day Mr. S took me to
someone’s house again. Mrs. P is an elderly lady who runs a kindergarten school
and lives with her two dogs – Teddy and Goldie. A golden retriever and a Labrador.
She lived in Calcutta with her late husband for a long time and can speak
broken Bengali. Sometimes you meet certain people and think at once that yes I
am going to like this person very much. Mrs. P is one of such people. She is
fat, fair, heavily made up and emanates an endearing vibe about her which will
make you feel at home. She offered me to join her NGO (which I accepted instantly),
took my number and asked me to drop by whenever I felt like. I acquiesced and
meant it. I have got to make friends with Teddy and Goldie.
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