KOLKATA DIARIES.

2.

Anindita by the window. Rachael to her side. Okay, the seats in the Vistara flight somehow managed them to not leave each other awkwardly in an in between phase of a morose transition.

There stories were different. They were different. Rachael was a smarter, more materialistic girl who could conceal her feeling with cheerfulness and and laughter which Anindita could never be. She would always be that emotional bookworm , never opening up, talking less, less than anyone else and maybe for that here was Rachael despite her irreparable loss, smiling and talking with the air hostesses , with the fellow travellers and Anindita was yet held back, in a silo of feelings, her cheeks yet wet. Anindita was enroute to home, in search of some peace and happiness and here was Rachael enroute to more chaos and confusion, more uncertainty and pain. Anindita had her baggage filled up with gifts for her entire family, and here was Rachael with not even a penny to fetch her a cab after getting off at the airport. Here was Anindita feeling vomitish for travelling in a flight after so long and to Rachael this had become a thoroughfare to search, hunt for the remnants of a lost family. But Anindita could somehow feel their hearts beating in the same rhythm because somewhere down the lane they both shared the same fate.

The clouds outside presented a variety of shapes and sizes, told her stories. Anindita recounted , who was luckier, she who had never seen her parents since birth or Rachael who had atleast got a chance to be with the best loved ones. But somehow, Anindita was luckier because the demise of her parents never mattered much to jer because it's very difficult to feel void for the loss of someone who never existed in your life but for Rachael that was a spash of a bitter truth that raptured her life incessantly.

Anindita had grown up in her maternal Aunt's place, more popularly termed as Mashi. She had been a daughter of the Chatterjee's always despite the fact that she was Anindita Mukherjee. The family enconpassed her mashimoni , her husband, their son, two of her mesho's brothers , their wives , their sons and daughters as well. But among all of them, Anindita was not the only one who was a non-Chatterjee and yet a girl of the house. There was another one. She was not a relative though. Her mashimoni's sister in law, (Monimaa), had found her on the road when she was hardly four or five but that fair girl with glisten in her eyes held back Monimaa and she couldn't help but brought her home. And to Anindita's great luck , the girl was of her age. This was very much special to Anindita as all the other children of the house were elder than her, though Ajoy da, Monimaa's son had always been a favourite.

But during her days in Loreto Bowbazar or Presidency University, she could have never felt complete without this girl. They were something more than the mundane ideas of best friends or soulmates. Starting from reading marathons to the regular evening rewaz to backbitching some hated girls to struggling with yellow dhakais during Saraswati Pooja to sharing the tension before the exam night to talking of failed trials of love in school life , they had always been found together, so much that everyone was found to have called them cup and saucer.

There was a similarity in everything between them, from the traditional names to the colour to the phucka and ghugni to the umbrella cut Kurtis to the silver jhumkas to the layers of kajol to the flood of crimson sunset from the rooftop to the qualities they admired in a man. The only difference was, the other girl hated social life. No facebook. No whatsapp. No instagram. Anindita could only call her sometimes but voices didn't do all that could be exchanged. Also, she was the only one who knew about Ronojoy but she had to add a lot more details to their flourishing relation. And the girl's kajol smudged eyes brought smile to her lips.  If she was awaiting Kolkata, then well it was for her.

Anindita looked at her side. In the orange rays that filtered through the glass window, Rachael was asleep , her blonde hair gleaming magnificently. Anindita looked back and sighed, god knows whether Rachael had such a soul sister in life, like she had her Chitrolekhaa, her, her very own..