Dithi Mukherjee: lost and found...

Rain soaked roads
force the traffic
to jam
in
a cacophony
of horns and scorns.

Destination- Kalighat.
Purpose- to see the Goddess.

Unprepared,
I hear footsteps
and muffled Bangla
floating down the green staircase
as I ascend to see
Dithi
in red and purple
kohl and silver.

her eyes-
mesmerise.

Tea?
yes, please.
Tulsi?
Hmm..., would love it.

The kettle whooshes the water
to undo the leaves
at the bottom of the glass
to become one
concoction.

We settle down
on high stools
next to a window
at the printing table.

Do I look into those eyes
or do I listen to her speak?

Do I focus on her art
or click her?

Do I sip my tulsi tea
or snap the studio?

I do it all
in a daze.

'I was lost in Geneva
and tried to fit in.
I even stopped wearing my kohl!'
she says.

Geneva's loss!

The talk turns to temples-
Dakhineshwar is her favourite.

'I don't like temples.' I confess.
'The pundits behave like the mafia-
it beats the purpose.'

'If you can detach yourself from the pundits-
not care
and enjoy the temple-'
muses Dithi.
'Try it. They don't bother me.'

But you're you.
Your eyes mesmerise.

Conversation orbits around life,
husbands,
countries and continents.

'I wouldn't be here
if I hadn't married my husband
or gone to Geneva
and got lost.'

'Going away
gave me
new eyes
to look.'

she says,
standing in the doorway
kohl and silver
red and purple
curves,
and
eyes
that mesmerise.

Stepping out in the rain-
I am lost.
I am found.
I feel the ground-
wet, sensuous, messy and muddy
pure
and
divine.

It's a funny thing- this facebook. You know what a person looks like from their pictures and you think you know what they are like from their posts, but meeting a person in person after being in touch via facebook doesn't prepare you one bit.

I wasn't prepared to be so awestruck.

Dithi and I had exchanged mails and messages, spoken on the phone and I'd bought a print of hers online in March. But spending that rainy afternoon with her in her teacher's studio felt like standing on a sandy seashore - the waves washing away the sand from under my feet- you know you might fall, but you like it- this play of holding on and letting go. It's hard to put into words.

I didn't buy anything. I didn't need to.

'It's not about that.' she said.

It was time to leave. I had planned to buy shakha paula (the red and white bangles worn by married women in Bengal) from Kalighat. I used to wear them as a newly wed bride living in Calcutta all those years ago. The sound they make when you are going about your daily chores while wearing them can conjure up Calcutta in a blink- no matter where you live. Dithi recommended a shop.

The green stairwell beckoned.

'Do you have a brolly?' she asked.

'I've come from a desert.'

We grinned and said goodbye.

Barefoot and drenched, my husband, sister-in-law and I bought pedas (sweets) and garlands of hibiscus to offer to Goddess Kali. She was on her lunch break- taking bhog. So, we made the offerings to the closed door. The mafia pundit's demand for more money didn't bother me.

I had met the goddess twice that day and even hugged her once. I was happy to get wet in the rain and eat pedas and step into my sis-in-law's car with muddy feet.

Moments as ordinary as these-
when you see the light in the brush strokes of Kalpana's scrolls
or
in the depths of  Dithi's kohl rimmed eyes-
make a pilgrim out of me.

Saraswati, Kaali and Durga
reside in you
and
in me.

This, I'm beginning to see.
***

Here are a few pictures I did manage to click despite the daze of being dazzled by Dithi:)

the tulsi tea ceremony...

ta...daa...ready!

Dithi tells me that these hearts are her teacher's work in progress...

Shakha Paula from Kalighat and cotton saree from Bellur Math- a girl has to shop, right?

Kolkata traffic made sure I enjoyed the rain- every raindrop of it:) green, green and more green...

I have been reading Paradise in Plain Sight by Karen Maezen Miller and as I read, I underline. Here's a quote from this awesome book:

"Once you admit you are lost,everything you see is a sign pointing home."