An Unexpected Call
Sometimes, callers can be more than friends and families, who had left an impact on you.
“Hello! Utkarsha. Kaisi ho?” (Hello! Utkarsha. How are you?)
It was 5 in the evening and I had just come home after a long day at the Court. I was tired, lazy and all I could see was my bed, have a power nap, so that I can get up recharged and work again. I lay down, half on the bed and half dangling off, scrolling through the Gram, sighing, with my sister being my pillow.
While I was relating to the reels, my phone vibrated. It was a call from my long lost friend, Nitish. I knew it was him because I had his number saved since school days and neither did he change his number for once, even though he had lived across the continents, nor did I delete. I was surprised. I was wondering “How, Why, What.”
Nitish and I were in the same school, but he was two years junior to me. We had nothing in common, not the same classes, not the teachers, not the 3rd language, but one thing. That one thing was the Art Room. Yes, the Art Room of the school, our place to be disguised, a place to bunk classes for, a place to learn the art from the artist itself- our dear Karmakar sir.
Art room was not just another room for me, it was a place where I could immerse myself in fantasies and imagination of the world which I thought existed. It was a place, a nook of the school where I could be anything, be anyone, do anything and yet I would be appreciated. After “the School’s Stage”, this Room had given me alot.
It was a room on the 1st floor of our Senior Wing. It was the room in a corner, yet a large one with lots of desks, paints, oil pastels, clay, canvas. 50 mts far from the room one could tell that “Karmakar sir’s room is that way” because the air had a whiff of colors, fevicol, paper, paints. Some might categorize it as “Sasta Nasha” but that nasha had fragrance of love, respect, joy, happiness.
As mentioned in my previous post, I hardly had school friendships which lasted a decade, but this Room gave me few of them. I don’t remember how I made this Room my second home (after the School’s stage), but it was, with the warmth. People knew where to find Utkarsha, either on the stage or in the art room. During Class 10th, my majority days were spent in this Room. I had competitions lined up. My days were mostly rehearsing, practicing and perfecting my act. And once the rehearsals were over, I was too tired to attend classes. Hence, took shelter in this Room. I was invited with open arms and Nitish and his friends said “Aye! Here comes Utkarsha. Which class are you bunking? Tell me it’s Physics. Please your teacher doesn’t know. You come here, sit with us. See this sketch. Doesn’t it looks like you? It seems sir has drawn you? See the hair…..”
I was neither best nor the worst of artist in that room, but enjoyed learning new techniques, working with types of paints, creating sculptures, learning from fellows and helping them. My Art teacher and Drama teacher both were good old buddies and whenever they met, I was definitely somewhere in those discussions.
That day when Nitish called, I was surprised. “Hello! How are you? If you are available right now, can we talk?”
I said, “Yes, sure Nitish. It has been long, how are you? Where have you been?”.
“I am good. I am here in Bhirbhum, West Bengal.”
“Bhirbhum? How come?”
“Yes. Okay, hold for a second. There is someone who would like to talk to you.”
“Hello! Utkarsha. Kaisi ho?” a low pitched, tired, shaky voice came across the phone and it was none other than my sir- my Karmakar sir, my art sir, it was him. I had mixed emotions, my eyes lightened up, a smile on face, and lots of memories in mind. A septuagenarian is asking me how am I? The question belongs to him. He should tell how have he been? Listening to his soft yet authoritative voice for over a 5 min, made my day. He might have grown old, but his care and well being for me, and his other students remained same. He asked about my parents, my sister. And I told him what my sister and I are upto these days, I could see the pride in him. He has become fragile, dainty man, but he still remain one of my favourite teachers.
This Bengali duo- Karmakar sir and Ghosh sir (art teacher and dramatics teacher) has a special place in my heart. People adore their English teachers, Mathematics sir, but I adore them. When Ghosh sir passed away, I was broken. It was sudden. And that man had taught the art of performing before thousands. If it wasn’t him, I wouldn’t had achieved anything. I wonder what would I do if I hear about my Art teacher.
Life has a strange way of bringing us full circle. The Art Room was my sanctuary, and in many ways, the Courtroom now holds the same weight. So when I enter the Courtroom, it feels like the Art Room, where I could see Nitish & Co. waiting for me and then I consider the dais as my Stage, where I have to perform with same enthusiasm. And having my back, are my two teachers. 🌻
Some memories are just priceless. :)