S Sitara Khatum; I had met her in an unimaginable circumstance. After all staying in 'Priyanka's Working Women's Hostel' wasn't quite something I could imagine for myself.
A women just entering her sixties, she had views and thoughts that surely lacked in any of the hostel mates I had spoken to. Finding herself a bit odd for her age, to be in a hostel filled with young bubbling girls, she frequently found refugee in my room. I didn't mind an aged company with me, for only with them can I share experiences.
A women just entering her sixties, she had views and thoughts that surely lacked in any of the hostel mates I had spoken to. Finding herself a bit odd for her age, to be in a hostel filled with young bubbling girls, she frequently found refugee in my room. I didn't mind an aged company with me, for only with them can I share experiences.
We discussed all different topics we could think of. Finding my curiosity revolving around the wildlife, culture and people of Assam, we would sit to chat after her namaz in the cramped hostel room. We spoke about food, we spoke about lanterns, we spoke about places... yet we never got too personal with each other. We never forced our opinions on each other. We found momentary company which turned out a rival to our boredom.
What fascinated me most about her talks was the way she described the British Assam, she had seen as a child. She spoke of the river canals that were so clear then that one could see the green grass below and fishes could be caught by hand. She described to me, how her father had taught her to catch a fish with hooks. I was thoroughly awed and impressed by the recollection of such minute details of her past. How much of change has she seen through her lifetime and how much of effect has it had.
The old forest bungalows, she told me, were built on top of logged tree trunks. I let my imagination flow and get a view of the Assam I would never see, for now those pillars of trunks holding the bungalow had been converted into an office in itself. Her face used to sadden with pain that the modernization has bought.
After she left that particular day, when she gave me many information about Assam, I jotted it down on my dairy. We exchanged phone numbers that day, though we knew, we wont be calling each other. It wasn't that we weren't going to see each other again but as a matter of fact, we didn't see each other after that night.
Soon and quite suddenly I shifted my place and never got a chance to say goodbye to her. I am sure it wouldn't matter much for each of us and we could move on with life. But, what we moved on with was carrying some memories of people and places we would never see...
