Bolti Diwaarien

I still wonder how would the walls of a home relate to you??? It is a mirror of your memories.  Though lifeless,it is a book in itself. It has so many things to share  with you; it is a complete encyclopaedia to one's life journey. It's also a true witness to all the happening in one's home. It's has so many secrets which, only, it can reveal. So here is one such story which the wall of my home has witnessed. This is the wall of my home in Kolkata. I don't know what all it might have seen and was captivating. We were a family of six. Three sisters one brother mom and dad. A close nit family in the era of (sixties - seventies) who stayed in urban cities. My dad(Acchan) was a well educated man from the village who had taken up a prestigious job in Kolkata and as such he was a bada babu for the villagers who would have high hopes and aspirations for thier children too. Thus begins the transformation our close nit family and home into a Dharamshala. My father a udaaramanasu  (big hearted) will be pleased to serve everyone who ever comes to his door. One such incidents I  am jotting down here. A set of two brothers arrived one day to our house with a letter in hand from their dad. They were enquiring about my dad, since he was in office, we said he was not available at this moment. The innocent brothers rather I would say the innocence of village upbringing was so strong that they both said we will wait untill uncle comes back from office. So they were waiting but imagine how? They were literally standing near the sofa till evening. They dared sit on it. We politely asked them to take their seats but they won't do so. The height of respect was too much at that time I think. When my dad came back they touched his feet then with due permission they finally sat down. This incident was witnessed by the walls of our hall (sitting room) and it might still be holding so many such incidences. Will take you all once again sometime later.....