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Little Nimki throws the gauntlet to the sparrows |
It’s Sunday and I woke up very early and very fresh by my standards. By 8am! K had returned from her work trip yesterday morning. I went to sleep when she did last night. Before 2am. When she was away, I’d write till 11 pm and then have dinner. After that I would fight sleep and read till 3.30/ 4. Am! Yesterday she called me from the bedroom and sternly said, ‘it’s past 1030. You said we will eat at 10am!’
I was writing at my desk. Loaf and Nimki settled by my side. I looked at the boys and said, ‘our days of this being a bachelor writer’s pad are over. Mummy Loaf is back,’ and ran to take a shower and then heat our dinner.
Maybe that’s why I woke up early today. Because I slept early. Or perhaps it was because I was relieved and happy to have her back after the 10 day long trip and was more relaxed at night. But then there’s only so much mush that one can share on social media after 20 years of marriage. I will stick the ‘going to sleep earlier than norm’ narrative.
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Breakfast with Nimki |
I woke up to a joyous and very melodious concert today. It was as if a million song birds were cheerfully tweeting from the trees outside. In diverse notes and tunes which came together like magic. I paused to listen to them. Tapping my fingers in the air to a beat, as if I was Zubin Mehta conducting the New York Philharmonic while they played Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Just a silk dressing gown and a pipe away from completing the spoofish image of a Bengali bhadralok who has head in the west while living in Bowbajar or Shymabar east.
I spotted little Nimki at the hall window. What’s music to me, are to taunts from his mortal enemy. He was giving it back to the birds in what he thinks is a very menacing and scary voice. Which in reality sounds rather sweet, but I won’t tell him that. It will puncture his ego.
He looked at me and yawned. I can read his mind by now. ‘Could it be my lucky day? Breakfast (wet food) so early?
He dashed ahead, while I headed to the kitchen to take out a can of wet food, a spoon and 2 cat dishes. I’d spotted Baby Loaf. Happily curled and snoozing on Baby Boss. The rad black Boss satchel K had given me.
‘It’s a really expensive bag’, she’d exclaim if she saw this.
‘Nothing is more precious than my baby,’ would be my reply. This is not the first time that Loaf has settled on Baby Loaf! He loves high street brands and feels that as the first born, he is entitled to nap on Baby Boss.
I gave Nimki his food on the windowsill by the dining table. His ‘dining table.’ Then went to the study. Held a plate of wet food under Loaf’s nose. He sniffed it and jumped down and started eating once I placed the bowl on the floor. He was hungry!
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A much calmer and stoic little Nimki compared to two years back |
I went back to Nimki to give him the rest of the can. Once he finished it, we went to the study together to check on Baby Loaf who had wiped his plate clean for a change. I was happy as it’s always touch and go when it comes to Baby Loaf and wet food. More go than touch if you know what I mean.
Little Nimki turned away with a stoic look. No extras for him today! A big change from when he was younger and would go charging at Loaf’s food and I’d have to feed the boys separately.
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Little Nimki discusses his war strategy with Baby Loaf. While Loaf has hunted down many a bird, little Nimki is a pacifist and is yet to open his score. |
My back was paining so I sat to chant on the study bed instead of on the chair in our prayer corner. Baby Loaf was back on Baby Boss on the chair after breakfast. I was sitting beside the chair. I patted him occasionally while I chanted. I chanted happily and undisturbed for an hour. The birds outside chirping to give me company.
Little Nimki had gone to bedroom and snuggled into a sleeping Mummy Loaf in the bedroom. Each boy with his number one human.
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Chanting with my Cattisatva, Baby Loaf |
‘All set for Pujo,’ flashed a message from my aunt in Toronto. She’s become more conscious of the Pujos after she left India I feel.
‘Not really. For me it starts when I go to the neighbourhood pandal,’ I whatsapped back. Unlike her, I was always in the thick of things when it came to Durga Puja in Kolkata. Now not so much to be honest.
Messages of ‘Shubha Mahalaya’ poured in to my inbox.
I waited for a deat friend of mine to go on social media and say that one doesn’t say SM, just as one doesn’t say Happy Good Friday, Happy Pateti or Happy Muharram. This is an annual tradition! He’s a good soul and the subject riles him a lot. His message is largely lost among the festive cheers but thanks to him, I reply with just a ‘thank you’ when someone wishes me Shubho Mahalaya. That way I honour my friend’s feelings as well as the sentiments of those who wish me. The Middle Path.
Fellow Bengalis across the globe woke up early today to hear the (recorded) Mahalaya Mahishasur Mardini recital by the late Birendra Krishna Bhadra.
For me it was the birds of Bandra who chirped, ‘maa aashchhe.’ (Ma Durga is on her way)
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Waiting for Ma Durga |
PS: Oops I got to go! Little Nimki has pulled out a fresh garbage bag from the bin and is hiding inside it as combat practise. I hate to break it to him that give his white tushy, and most of his body, is visible through the black bag, his camouflage is rather ineffective. My little kitty warrior. ❤️
Thankfully I’d had breakfast by then and was fortified for the chase to get the cat out of the bag. In case you want to know, Parsi mutton gravy cutlace from Mahrukh’s Kitchen and, since this is Bandra and not Breach Candy, sourdough and not pav with it.
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#finelychopped breakfast. Cutlace gravy and sourdough. |