Last several days, during my walk, I usually  see a man sitting on a boulder, lying at the wayside. The man is stockily built, anglo Indian, with a white complexion and a dignified look. The path of my walk goes over the backwaters drawn in from the sea. The man continuously searches for something; from his looks it appears he wants to strike a conversation with me. I sensed that the man fixes his gaze at me from a distance. I walk up to him, then go past him and walk away to the island jetty without looking at him. I wait there at the edge of sea for some time  enjoying the nature and the beauty of the sea with nobody around except a few fishermen, in that quite hours.  On my return homeward, I usually do not see the man.

This morning, as usual, I was walking to the jetty. He was sitting on the same boulder with the same searching-look. Soon after, the man softly came up to me . There was a little conversation between us—

Man—where do you stay?

Me- Mariamnagar, where you stay?

Man—Amulnagar, what is your name?

Me—Bhanu chakraborti?


Me—No, it is chakraborti, elder brother of Mithun Chakraborty, the dancer film star…[ I usually say so when my conversation-partner cannot understand my surname. Soon, when his eyes lights up at the mention of familiar actor—Mithun Chakraborty, and his dance, I break the truth, and start my usual business]

Then I asked his name. He said he is Brian . He is 70 years old, retired from a job of private company, he is an anglo Indian, his father died long back, mother 98 staying in England. I became curious, and enquired about his very Indian accent of English. He was shocked, and floored. At  this , he energetically, started explaining me, giving airs, that he is an Englishman. He opined that Indians cannot speak correct English, and has a very bad pronunciation.  Further, India is not a good place to live in. At this point I started showing my disinterest, and make a move to home. He came slowly close to me, and made me listen to him–

Man— Chu-ker-vertty, do you have fifty rupees?

Me—( I was taken aback), why?

Man—I will give you back, tomorrow.

Me—Getting the question from a stranger, I kept silent.

Man [ insisted]—DO YOU HAVE TWENTY BUCKS???, I promise…I shall return you tomorrow.

Me—Looked coolly to the man, with a fixed attention.

Man [ continued]— I require it for Rickshaw fare.

He did not look anyway sick or tired. When conversation was going on, distance between us narrowed. I could smell the he was stinking strong of country liquor. I cut off the conversation at this point. I was on a morning walk, and had no money on me, I bade farewell to the man and returned home. On way back, a friend enquired– “how come you were talking to that man, beware!!! ”







A place to express myself without any attempt to look good, intelligent--a raw version of me. It includes discussion as we have in an ADDA comprising argumentative Indians. In an ADDA people break ranks to speak on anything on which the speaker may be an expert including a self-styled ones or a stark-novice, but asserts equally in full voice, to put forward their wisdom . Nothing to be taken too seriously, there is a joy in talking unrestricted--nothing far and no further. In it, I find a bond to hundreds of my people, from my school days to the day of my retirement ,which otherwise I could not make access to....here only I talk, nobody can stop me. Here, you will experience ' right to talk ' in its extremes. THIS GIVE ME A GREAT RELEASE . LONG LIVE MY BLOG AND DIGITAL FRIENDSHIP !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!