“I will tell you a bed time story tonight”; She said. No, She wasn’t going to be beside me, She had promised She would read to me one her favourite childhood stories from the ‘Grandmother’s fables’ by Lakshminath Bezbaroa, he was a literary giant, considered to be one of the finest storytellers in Assamese literature, I had done my homework well. While, I had all the options to browse the internet and the find out the story by myself, I held on to the the urge. The soothing affect of her voice meant more than just some random story telling.
I hadn’t felt this excited for a long long time, I had last heard a bedtime story when I was a six year old, I still remember it was ‘The Homecoming’ by Tagore, Phatik Chakraborty and his story had made me weep and cry, I was so touched that I ran temperature and fell sick, Maa hadn’t told me a story ever since and this was perhaps after 24 years that someone was going to read to me something, rather tell me a story.
I remember her telling me how She had performed a street play showcasing the same story, She held it very close to her heart. Also, She had shared photographs of the same, in one of the pictures She was holding her wrist, sitting down and weeping. She played the role of the protagonist, and I was touched; deeply touched. The picture said a thousand words, it was from 2010-11, her university days. I was overawed by the kind of qualities She had, She could write, She was very well read, She danced like a dream (who knew this better than me) and She could act too. Woah !! What awesomeness, what a find. I was now looking forward to the kind of storyteller She would be.
The wait was a long one, longer than I had expected. The promised night of her telling me the bedtime story never came by, She would promise me once in a while that She would, She hadn’t forgotten, She would say; and I would keep looking forward to it. Months passed by and She never kept her promise, I was tempted to read the story myself but I restrained, you know how addictive hope can be, and when it meant the soothing balm of her voice; I could have waited for a lifetime.
The day did come by, night perhaps; I thank the good heavens and the chains of her mood, they didn’t snap. She had a good day at work, was keeping happy and luckily for me She had met me in the evening too, a pizza bribe did the trick. It was one of those autumn nights, and the moon was up in the sky spreading it’s radiance. The call started with her being all casual, the cribbing then started and I was loosing my mind, I had heard her office stories, I knew all the characters who occupied the cubicles there.
But then, out of nowhere She started with the story as I mumbled, asked her to hold, I looked out for my earphones, plugged them in lest I missed something, noise and distortion you know. The story was a good one, it didn’t put me to sleep, rather I asked her if She could tell me another, sadly She didn’t oblige. “Some other time”; She said; well I’ll wait, even if it means seeing her across the other side of this world.
P.S: She would tell stories like no one else, She will be a story like no one else. I’ll tell her story some day.
abhishek purkayastha 