Puta and me
Imon Kalyan
Lots of memories are scattered in my mind like it was yesterday. In those days when I was yet to go to school, I remember sitting in the back of his scooter in the stary evenings and resting my head on his back, often drifting off to one of the stories I made up in my mind as he navigated through the busy roads of Guwahati. After coming home from his office, and taking care of unattended household work, Puta used to go out each evening. I used to accompany him most of those evenings. On the front of the scooter before his legs, he used to keep a bag of books, and on the back, I would sit holding him like a backpack. We rode from place to place distributing books and letters and collecting donations for conferences and publications of Sahitya Parishad. Sometimes I used to fall asleep on his back dreaming of floating with the stars in my stories.
He had spent most of his evenings at Ata’s (my maternal grandfather) house at Chandmari. Ata's residence was a meeting place for intellectuals like him. Most of the evenings, Ata's drawing-room used to be full of people fond of him. Puta must be a permanent member of his followers. Ata was not only his father-in-law but also a close friend and mentor to him. Puta had a habit of discussing and consulting almost all decisions, with Ata. It was the end of April 2020, the time of lockdown due to the pandemic when Puta's health started to decline. My Ata was also very sick after his operation during that time. Due to the fear of
