December 29. 11.17am. “Button, yesterday was, perhaps, one of the most memorable days of my life.”

“What did you folks do?”

“On chotididi’s  insistence, we went and visited the house Dost lived in for 6 years of his life after having moved out of his parent’s home after his first marriage. He even remembered the exact address so, based on that, the four of us went looking for the house. Strangely, after all these years, House Number 12/2/1on Palm Avenue stands exactly the way it stood with the same tenants who had occupied it when Dost occupied a 200 sq ft space 47 years back. That 200 sq ft contained a tiny living area, a bedroom, a dining area with a kitchen and bathroom. This is the place from where he churned out most of his poetry and other writings. It’s an experience that brought time to a standstill.”

“How did both didis react?”

“They went totally ballistic. The younger one went click, click, click and the older one was completely stunned. Even the lady who had got married 47 years back and moved into the other wing was there to tell us how she had moved into her husband’s home after Dost and his wife had moved in.”

“We also sat and drank filter coffee—one more thing Dost loved and used to drink then—with fresh, crispy biscuit and Mukhorochok chanachur which only Kolkata can produce.”

“This city is in your blood!”

“From there we drove to the school I went to called Pratt Memorial School and, later to one of the houses I spent the latter part of my life before getting married and moving out. Strangely, this house in Beniapara stands exactly the same way when we occupied it. This house was as big as the one Dost occupied in Palm Avenue. We even had ‘phuchkas‘ from Raju, the man who still serves the best ‘phuchkas‘ 40 years later.”

“Do these memories make you feel old?”

“Not at all. Memories enrich your life and I have been blessed my memories, most of them worth remembering.”