A part of me still lives in Calcutta

I left the city two months after I turned 18. Fresh out of school; thrilled about turning an adult. But I was bidding adieu to a city that had given me some of the best memories of my life. I had the best time in school here. I had made great friends here. I had fallen in 'love' here for the first time. And yet, I was ready to move on. That’s what a fauji kid is like. Always willing to move on; taking a little from a place and leaving behind a part of her too. 

A few weeks ago, I went back to Calcutta, albeit for a holiday. I had been there earlier for Kasturi’s wedding. But this…this was different. Amma was with me. And with us were memories of the days we spent together in Calcutta. The days we roamed the city lanes… The crazy shopping, eating street food, the laughing, the arguments! The days when Papa was with us… which is why Calcutta is special. If it brings smiles on our faces, it also brings tears to our eyes. 

Thanks to Sen Uncle, Papa’s boss and Kasturi’s dad, we made a quick visit to Turf View. Here’s where we lived for three years. The place hadn’t changed much; but it had surely improved. A shopping complex, a bus bay for students waiting for their buses, a basketball court, a park for kids, beautified buildings, et all. But as we drove around the blocks, all of them, 1 to 19, I saw papa and amma on their evening walks. I saw myself walking down the lanes with my friends. 

It was a quick tour, and was over in less than 5 minutes. At the end of it, I didn’t know if I was smiling or crying. Perhaps just numb. And envious. Envious of all those people who live there now. Who’s lives are untouched by the ‘civilian’ way of life. 

It broke my heart as I once again realized that my ‘Army wale’ days are over. That I won’t get a second chance at it. That despite having roamed around freely in Turf View and the Army Officers’ club and the Army canteen and all those hundred places with a dependent ID card, in just over a decade, all I was entitled to get was a visitor’s pass. 

But deep inside me, the fauji kid will live forever. No wonder then that the husband once mentioned to a colleague who happens to be a Fauji wife, “Even after all these years, my wife is still a fauji kid and not a civilian’s wife”. Trust me, that comment made me feel so proud :)