Watch the Road (Inspired from Tarapada Ray)

There was a slim and tall antique grandfather clock in my ancestral house. It was a priced possession of our family but I had never seen it work till now. One day I decided to call my friend to help me take it to the watch makers to get it repaired. Waiting for him for a long time, my friend did not turn up and finally I decided to take it there myself. It was not a very big deal for me to carry it on my shoulder alone especially because the watch shop was just 5 minutes away. The only challenge on the way was to cross a main road always busy with traffic.

I was on my way with the grandfather clock on my shoulder as the pendulum inside made weird dong sounds as it kept sliding from one side to another because of the slight jerks in my walk. There I was at the main road crossing, waiting for the traffic to stop and the green signal for walking to turn on. Opposite the road I notice this beautiful, young girl, wearing a short dress, bubbly in nature taking to her college mate, her face and hairstyle resembling as that of Cleopatra, queen of the Nile. She was also waiting for the signal to cross the road from the other side, I presumed. My gaze was stuck upon her as if nothing else existed around me anymore. The next moment all the waiting pedestrian started crossing the road with the onset of the green walking signal and I start following them, my eyes still transfixed on that girl. As she came closer, her eyes met mine for the first time, and a shiver of electricity rushed through my body and I kept moving forward even more enthusiastically towards her, and she towards me. In this dreamlike state of mine, where flying fairies played flute in my ears congratulating me for the fortunate vision of this angel in my reality, I had totally forgotten what I was carrying on my shoulder – the tall and slim grandfather clock. The next moment I heard a slight “THOK” sound , a sound of wood hitting someone’s head and it was my grandfather clock on my very shoulder that had gone and hit my beautiful angel’s fragile head knocking her down on the road.

My angel was surely no angel any more. Like a ferocious hissing serpent she jumped up on me with a completely different face than that in my dream, and started yelling at me at the top of her voice,

“Aap haath mein ghari nahi pehen sakte? Itna bada watch sarr mein leke ghoom rahe hain! Stupid kahika! Useless idiot!" 

[Bengali] Arey moshai apni hath ghori porte paren na? Shudhu shudhu raasta ghaate eto boro ekta ghori mathaye kore niye ghurchen time dekhar jonno! Ajob lokjon mairi! Idiot! Ulluk kotha kar!”

Flabbergasted, I could not speak a single word to her, as I watched her walk away from me to the other side of the road cursing me left and right under her breath. The way I had felt that day is beyond any kind of moral description. On one hand I still remember that she was one of the most beautiful sights of my life in this city. On the other hand I also realized that beauty with brains may just be a myth, at least in this romantic first-hand experience of mine.

 

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