.................THE CARD................

It was just another day at office. The stress levels didnt seem to surge. Mr.Kanvinde was doing it again. He thinks he can live longer by putting us under the hammer. Cant blame him though. Its just the whole corporate world thing. I needed a break, badly. "Kanvinde sir." I said. "Yes", he replied in the same grouchy old way. "I want a leave of 5 days, sir." I almost whispered. He looked at me shocked , surprised as if I had said something I was not supposed to say, as if I had commited a crime, a sin, a deadly one for that matter. "What for?" he said. "I have shared my folders with Karan. He should be able to handle while I am away. The TL has agreed too." WHAT FOR???,MR.DASGUPTA", he almost shouted. "My sister is getting married." I dont know how but the sentence just slipped through. He was not at all convinced. But i used my acting skills to overpower that monster. Its true that whatever we learn in school comes handy throughout life.

I, Raj Dasgupta had a record in school for taking part and winning in drama competitions for 10 consecutive years. I was a born actor but somehow landed up doing a software job. Maybe I would have fared better in that field. I rushed to the room started packing. I was going home.
It was raining as usual at Kalapur. It was a small town, hardly 1000 people populating it. No one was as succesful as I was. No one had gone to Calcutta for higher studies. I was famous in my town. By the time I rang the door bell, I was drenched up. "Monta,", my mother came with a towel in her hand, trying to reach my head." Dry up fast..you will catch a cold". I never grew up for my mother. Maybe its a case with everyone. I wondered how my other name Monta came into being considering Raj was my name. I mean a mere Raju was the obvious pet name but then there it was--- Monta!!! . It felt good though.

The next few days were full of hustle bustle, relatives pouring in from all over just to see me. They say success is a relative term.....well it does bring in many relatives. How true it was. It felt good at first but then my nerves were snapping up. I caught up with my school friends and also with Bhagwandas' store. This was the place where we used to hang out after school. We used to buy chana and chocolates here. The school was fun. Everytime I hear the song, The summer of 69. , I get reminded of my school days.'Those were the best days of my life!!!'. Quite true for everybody I guess. Getting nostalgic about my school days, something struck me. I rushed home straight to the basement. It was dark, not opened for many many years. the only source of illumination was a small crack through which a small ray of light was trespassing. I found what I was looking for. There on top of an old cupboard laden with dust was that box, my treaure. It was where I kept all my secrets throughout my school life. Nobody knew about it. I lifted it up and brought it closer to that crack for some kind of visibility. Blowing of the dust, I opened it. A squeeking sound ripped my ear but the sight inside was beautiful. Some broken pencils, leaking pens and some exam papers with gold, silver stars on it. Then there was a picture and a card, both decaying from all sides. It was that of me and Paul. It had been years since I last saw him. I started to recollect those good old days.

Paul was from Goa . His dad worked with the Hindustan Bank. So he had to travel after every 2 years or so. We spent exactly 2 years together and man we were best buddies. We used to go to school together, eat our lunch together, play together, walk home together, do homework together. I used to spend more time at his home than mine. He was the only son and his parents treated me as one of their own. But then he had to go. We went and brought 2 same cards. One for each and promised that when we meet again we get them along. I remember I cried a lot that day and the next and next. It was painful. But then within a month it was all over. His memories wiped out from my head. It had been 14 years. Wonder what he must be doing now. I opened the card. It had his writing..couldnt make out exactly what was written but could guess it was an address. I noted it down. I couldnt sleep that night. Memories of Paul were calling me. I felt this desparate urge to meet him. I had to go as soon as possible. I wouldnt be getting holidays for atleast sometime now. I left the next day leaving mother sad.

It was the first time I had been to Goa. It was beautiful. Asking people for directions I somehow managed to reach the place. In front of me stood an old bungalow. I opened the gate and went inside. Knocked about four times, yet no one answered. I tried once more. The door slowly opened. "Hello" I said. An old wrinkled face stared at me. It was his mom, I recognised the eyes. "Who are you and what do you want?"came the reply. "Auntie, I am Raj...from Kalapur...I am a friend of Paul.". She kept staring at me for some time. Didnt seem to recognise me I guess." Raj... Raj Dasgupta!!!"., she replied." "Yes". No sooner I said those words she started crying letting me in. Sipping hot coffee I waited for her to calm down. On the shelf I saw the family photo, and a photo similar to the one I had all framed up. "Where's Paul" I enquired impatiently. She started crying again, this time louder. Then she spoke."Paul died 2 years ago. Met with an accident."she said still weeping. I was shocked, numbed, was not able to think. She kept on talking. I couldnt hear. I was loosing ground. My tears glands seemed to be activated after many many years. She got up and gave me a packet. I opened it. Inside was a card. I left.

Sometimes in life we tend to forget the ones who are very close to us and who mean a lot to us. I decided to contact all my friends that day and keep in touch. God has given us this life, with friends to guide us through. Friendship is everything ,appreciate it before its too late.