sample copy. not for distribution. · brishti had migrated to mumbai back in 2014, where she is now...

Sample Copy. Not For Distribution.

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The Red Hibiscus


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Publishing-in-support-of,

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING

RZ 94, Sector - 6, Dwarka, New Delhi - 110075 Shubham Vihar, Mangla, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh - 495001

Website: www.educreation.in __________________________________________________

© Copyright, Author

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, optical, chemical, manual, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of its writer.

ISBN: 978-1-61813-565-0

Price: ` 185.00

The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author and do not represent the opinions/ standings/ thoughts of Educreation.

Printed in India


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THE RED

HIBISCUS

Rupak Ghosh

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING

(Since 2011)

www.educreation.in


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Partnered by

Mind On Papers


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“The whole life is a succession of dreams. My ambition is to be a conscious dreamer,

that is all.” ~ Swami Vivekananda


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I am not an author by profession and

accordingly a bit skeptical about the fact whether anyone will ever read this novel. But then, life being so unpredictable with all its theories of coincidences and postulates of miracles, that anything and everything can happen!!! Irrespective of the fate of this novel, I would like to convey my heartfelt gratitude to the following:

1- My Readers: Without you, we are absolutely nothing. Amidst all the complications of life, the tight schedules, the survival for existence, the rat race and the stretched timelines, you still manage to squeeze out some time to make us proud. This is pure love for good writing which

inspires thousands of aspiring authors like us to take the plunge and pen their thoughts without being perturbed about the economics involved in it. We owe it to you, trust me, we do!!!

2- My Critics: A great sage once said a snake only raises its hood when it is hit on the


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head. Thank you for your criticism, it actually made all the difference in my life.

3- My Parents: Aparna and Suhrit Ghosh, for showing me the light of day in the first place, subsequently sacrificing everything for my upbringing and now being my friends for life.

4- My Wife and Son: Suchi for her selfless devotion and dedication and walking by my side in this entire journey from the

manuscript to a paperback. Ratul alias Indrashis for being such a bundle of joy, I just want him to keep smiling!!! His smile gives me an assurance that all is well at the end of the day.

5- My Friends: My pillars of strength. The circle is mammoth and I would refrain from taking individual names because the list will then be endless. Each one of you has significant contribution behind this book and I am grateful to have witnessed such selfless bonding in this life.

6- Mr. Sankar Kumar Das: For his beautiful sketches which have been captured in the various pages of this novel.

7- The City of Mumbai: For its indomitable spirit, its tolerance levels, the comfort and the warmth it extends to outsiders like me. I strongly feel that it would not have been possible to even conceive the idea, forget writing it, had I not been in Mumbai.

8- What's in a name, a rose by any other name smells as good: Thank You!!!

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―That waiting can also be an art, she only

made me realize that,

She taught me to accept life the way it comes - seldom good and frequently bad!!!

What comes easy she told me, won’t last that long,

And in waiting to accomplish one's dream, there is absolutely nothing wrong.

She taught me that the sky before dawn, is always the darkest and most hazy

Because whatever lasts long won’t ever come that easy!!!

She taught me to deal with Victory and Defeat with equal poise,

Both are impostors she said, they will befriend us as per their own choice.

She gave me the courage to watch things I have given my life to, crumble down,

And made me realize that all green leaves one day will necessarily turn brown.

She made a valid point that if the mighty desert can wait patiently for a drop of rain,


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What stops you duffer, from stooping down and building it up once again?

She taught me to value all my relationships, old and new,

But to cushion my heart such that friends and foes can neither hurt you,

I learnt from her to walk my talk even with the kings and yet retain my simple touch,

It was from her only I learnt to lead my life

without counting on my destiny much!!!

She gave me the courage to bear to hear my outspoken truth,

In her you will find the depth of a seasoned lady coupled with the zeal of youth!!!

She is just one more simple woman amidst the incredible few,

Ladies and Gentlemen, here comes my love, Brishti Chatterjee for you!!!‖

--- Apurba Chatterjee

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No.

Chapter

Page

1. Her Bags Are Packed And She Is Ready To Go

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2. Knock At Your Destiny 15

3. You Say It The Best When You Say Nothing At All

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4. Never Say Goodbye 53

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Her Bags Are Packed And She Is Ready To Go

He was gone. And soon, this building and

the tiny garden outside with its old red hibiscus and the half-grown mango trees they had planted together, all those would be gone as well. It was the first thought that struck her mind like a deafening lightning, as she somehow managed to open her big expressive eyes. The thought had been secretly unsettling her for some time now and thereafter she somehow managed to fall asleep. It was the

strangest feeling ever. As she hurriedly tried to regain composure and sit upright, she realized that it has been long since she had been asleep. Last she remembered of the flight was that it was almost an hour after the scheduled take off from the Santa Cruz airport and the ―Fasten Seat Belts " sign had been turned off.


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As per the announcement made in the Public Announcement system, the flight was then cruising at about 13000 feet above sea level and had just flown over the city of Nagpur. She was on a window seat--7A, with the head resting on her left hand palm, ably supported by the elbow below, which was perched neatly on the hand-rest like a mounted erectile. Her earphones were plugged in and she was engrossed in Celine Dion, simultaneously

fidgeting with her iPhone 6 with the other hand. It was 9.05 pm and she was aboard Indigo 6E 387 enroute to her native place --―The City of Joy‖. Phew!!! Even God would not have known how she subsequently succumbed to a mid-air siesta and that too at such a high altitude above sea level—something that she had never done before. Removing the hair which was stumbling upon her face, she hastily glanced at the wristwatch; it showed 11.10 pm. The crew were getting ready for the landing and requesting the passengers to put their seats in upright mode and fasten their seat belts. The night sky outside was pitch dark and below, a million tiny lights illuminated the city of Kolkata. Looking outside she sighed to herself. Kolkata---the city she loved and was so proud of, the city she grew up in, and most importantly, the city where her parents wanted her to settle down!!! They are no more today, but their "Mohur Kunj‖ stays on and she is all set to dispose it off now!!! Compulsions are indeed harsher reflections of a journey called life.


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Brishti had migrated to Mumbai back in 2014, where she is now employed with a U.K based foreign bank and is part of the Corporate Banking Group. Life had taken many a toll on her in the last couple of years, but she is one of those incredible few who always believed that life is all about madness--if it isn’t madness, it is not worth living. The rigours of a corporate life and the bane of Mumbai traffic could not rob her sheen off. In

her late 20’s she was a proven poignant beauty with a charming personality. Her waist length straight hair which was midnight black in colour, a sculpted time glass figure on a wafer thin body and a decanter shaped waist could any day compel a few renowned divas of the tinsel town to run for their money. Even a sleepy nerd would amicably agree that there is an exuberance of craftsmanship in her face. A pair of curved, pencil thin eyebrows looking down on sweeping black eyelashes, housed two lotus petal like constellation blue eyes--- you look at them once and you desire to get lost in their depth of beauty. Add to that her puffy kissable pink lips and an elegant sharp nose---a package which bears testimony to the fact that God had enough time indeed to create a few in this world.

Mohur Kunj was constructed in the year 1990; the plot in New-Ballygunge where it stands today was purchased though the year before. Brishti was in nursery then. Twenty-one precious ―growing up years‖ of her life she had spent in that duplex bungalow and had so many fond reminiscences attached with it.


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Each and every corner of the house had some beautiful anecdote attached to it and Brishti cherished recollecting them. The bungalow stood witness to her journey from a kid to a lady through the fun and laughter of adolescence. Brishti's dad, Apurba Chatterjee was working with Eveready Industries Limited, headquartered in Kolkata till he retired in the year 2000. By that time, she had already lost her mom and the daughter-dad

relationship had become much more affable. Over the next 14 years that they spent their life together in Kolkata, her father had eased out considerably with her and became more of a friend than a father-- a welcome aberration from the heyday strict guardian he used to be when she was a child. Later when she finally decided to move to Mumbai for better career pursuits, she had requested him so many times to come along with her. She thought that they can always create a small world of their own even in a rented apartment in Mumbai. To make her logic sound strong, she had cited so many instances of her friends, her cousins migrating to Mumbai with their parents and living happily thereafter. But somehow the idea never appealed to her dad and he vehemently opposed it all through. He had made up his mind by then and sincerely preferred to enjoy his life back at his own creation – Mohur Kunj. But he ensured that his thought does not become a deterrent in Brishti chasing her own dreams and living her life independently. Only sometimes, he appeared baffled with the thought that if the entire educated clan leaves Kolkata in hordes


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like his daughter did for better opportunities, a full generation will soon stand to lose its roots and the culture of the city will eventually get tarnished. Brishti knew that her father earnestly wanted her to settle down in Kolkata; in explaining that he would often cite the difference between a home and a house.

―A house is all about brick and mortar‖ he would say, ―You can buy it or sell it anytime.

It only smells of concrete and real estate, whereas a home is about bonhomie and being together -- It smells of emotions and most importantly your roots.‖ Brishti would always differ then. Her view was that it was only about convenience – a home is one where a family stays. It can be anywhere in this world and it has got nothing to do with the roots. The argument continued for months intermittently over her phone calls back home, the occasional lunch outs during her hurricane Kolkata trips and even in Whatsapp till her dad finally breathed his last on 6th July 2015. Since then this duplex stood there at its place, locked up and deserted. It had actually been reduced to a so called house from an erstwhile home as per her dad’s words, and Brishti gradually started to feel bad about it. She wanted to do something, if

not anything else, at least put it on rent, but somehow it didn't work out as she desired. It was also not practically possible for her to take care of such a building remotely from Mumbai. Any establishment would need a minimum maintenance for up-keeping and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to


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manage it from there. Before it became a bigger menace for her, she decided to hang up her boots and dispose it off. She was convinced that she had no plan of settling down in Kolkata ever, even in her wildest dream and it made sense for her to square it off and scout for a flat in Chembur or some other place in Mumbai, with the sale proceeds.

She collected her luggage from Baggage Counter Number 1 and headed straight

towards the prepaid cab counter. A long queue welcomed her at the counter inside at the airport terminal. She gave in and finally decided to book an Uber cab. These days commutation has become easier in Kolkata after OLA and Uber cab services have been introduced in the city. Gone are the hegemony of the yellow cabs with their nagging questions, illegitimate demands and subsequent ―on the face‖ bizarre refusals. A gusty hot air welcomed her as she ventured out of the Arrival Gate Number 4A. Kolkata is going through a dry spell; she had read somewhere in the newspapers. The Norwesters have eluded the city big time this year. She sensed an uncanny feeling of uneasiness gulping her up from nowhere. She was quick to realize the reason though. Till last year her dad used to drive down to receive her at the airport. Unknowingly she had become so much used to it. She had then shouted at him so many times claiming that she had indeed grown up and can handle things her own way. He need not come to pick her up. But her dad had just refused to understand every time. She hated it then and now that he is no more,


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she is missing him big time. Life is Strange indeed!!! We cry for independence and when we achieve it, we start missing our dependence.

The Uber arrived in no time and soon Brishti was on her way home. A year had almost passed by after her dad's demise and she couldn't muster courage to visit the city even once since then. That was 6th of July

2015 and today is 15th June 2016. Incidentally, that reminded her that she was just minutes away from her 27th birthday!!! Her Tissot wrist watch showed it was almost 11.55 pm then; just five more minutes and she will get a year wiser. She felt so lonely all of a sudden. Maybe she would have got settled by now, had her dad been alive. Her colleagues had advised her so many times not to waste her birthday alone in a so called dead city. But she knew that she had to come. Actually what compelled her more to visit Kolkata then, was the fact, that she had posted the advertisement of Mohur Kunj on a real estate/property site; and a couple of prospective buyers had shown genuine interest. She was in a real hurry to finish this off and since she will get a mandatory leave from her office for her birthday, she decided to

club it off with the weekend and get set go. That is how she hatched up this short trip. But now as the Uber was speeding past the newly constructed Ultadanga flyover, a sinking feeling was gripping her all of a sudden. This will probably be her worst birthday ever!!! She is alone in the city, where


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there is none left to even raise a toast to her name on her birthday. Just like her, all her cousins too had left Kolkata; so had her friends for greener pastures. Thus she actually had no one here in Kolkata tomorrow to be with her. All of a sudden she hated the name "City of Joy" and felt like crying out loudly in frustration. The Uber zoomed past leaving Swabhumi and the Hyatt Regency on both sides of the road and then sped straight

towards the Ruby Hospital crossing. Birthday


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sample copy. not for distribution. · brishti had migrated to mumbai back in 2014, where she is now...

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