Sundays Way Back Then!

Way back then, Sundays used to be a different affair altogether. Mornings used to start with ‘Chitrahaar’ – old classics were aired and I would be often left gaping as I found my very serious uncle or very reticent Baba (father) humming to these lilting tunes. As for myself, I liked the dance numbers better – and unseen by others, would occasionally break into a jig à la yesteryear star Mithun, at some nook of our sprawling house.

And then there were some Sunday mornings when I would travel all the way to the marketplace with Baba where, among other things, he would buy fish. This, somehow, fascinated me a great deal. I would stare at the fish with all my might, and at times, when Baba was not looking, touch their scaly bodies gingerly. My curious mind would come up with an avalanche of questions. I would pelt the fishmonger and Baba in turn with these questions – why is ‘this’ fish different from ‘that’ one, why does that one have a bigger ‘tummy’… and the list would go on till they would beg me to stop.

And the special breakfast menu was something which actually made Sunday my favorite day of the week. Luchi – the deep fried bread that can make any Bong go moony-eyed, served with spicy ‘alur-dom’ (I wouldn’t even try describing this one – but it is not just “some potato curry”!) was something I would literally hanker for! And I would manage to tuck in ten ‘Luchi’ at one go – which is saying something given that I looked pretty anorexic back then, and couldn’t manage to finish off even a single helping of rice on other days.

Sunday afternoons were the time when I would wait, with eager anticipation, for ‘Someone’. That someone used to be a pot-bellied sweet seller – the man would flash a toothless smile whenever he saw me and at the sight of him, I would rush inside and implore my grandma to buy those creamy sweets that would just melt in the mouth!

Come evening and we would all go to the terrace to enjoy the cool breeze wafting by. Elders used to talk their hearts out while I used to dream, wide-eyed, about how I will own a big house someday where Luchi will be an everyday breakfast affair and creamy sweets will be available aplenty!

Those dreams might have changed, but the girl who used to dream those dreams still remains the same – those memories still make her smile a wide smile, and…she still asks too many questions when she is in the mood for it!

Yes, it is my Facebook World!

There is the real world and there is this Facebook world – or shall we call it the virtual world? Where people reveal a bit of their soul and double up their efforts to hide the rest. Where people bond and where people drift. Where love happens and hatred comes bounding out! Dichotomy at its best, you say? Yes, it is my Facebook world.

Profile pictures, cover photos, status updates – everything screams “that’s ME” – an urge to make the world sit up and take notice of us, of what we are – or rather, what we want to project? Sometimes they are music to the soul, as they reveal the raw, unkempt self – may be the wrap just got blown away! And sometimes it is plain noise – cacophony of opinions and counter opinions. Dichotomy at its best, you say? Yes, it is my Facebook world.

There are cursory likes, prim and proper comments and a compelling urge to appear 'different' – because let’s face it, off-beat is what secures attention, right? For some, Vero Moda tops make the 'difference', for others, it is the Akira Kurosawa stuff. And then that one moment, when you just don’t feel like putting up an act anymore and don’t care if the world gets to know the real you – the one who would rather have ‘phulko luchi’ than that Italian dish that claimed so much importance in your last status update! The world gets a peep into your real self and is intrigued – which is the real you? The one who lives on Bollywood junk or the one who swears by Bergman and Tarantino?  Dichotomy at its best, you say? Yes, it is my Facebook world.

And then there are times when you are all alone. And a ping. And you are happy. Or you revert to your snobbish self and make polite but pointedly indifferent conversation. Whichever way, it is you and you – yes, there are two – one you project and one you hide, one that sometimes wrenches free of your grip and makes a rare appearance, only to be kicked and shoved inside. Dichotomy at its best, you say? Yes, it is my Facebook world.