A House and Three Brothers

[This article was written by my mom, Sucheta Ghosh and got published in The Statesman, Calcutta.]

            Once upon a time, there were three brothers living in a house on a broad arterial road of south Calcutta bearing a vice regal name from the Raj. The house, not a showy affair, was a spacious, down to earth building, built stoutly by their grandfather, an engineer with Martin Burn and the right hand man of Sir Rajen, with the best possible materials available. The 25-inches thick walls have withstood the onslaught of unprecedented traffic for the past 85 years.

            When the stork stared bringing the three brothers one by one, the house was still in its teens. They grew up in that premises amid a houseful of relatives, near and far and among numerous cousins, who like any other household at that time, were treated as siblings. Over the years, their reputation as ’brats’ became well known in the locality and they were penalized for misdeeds almost every other day. So was their notoriety that any unsavory incident occurring in the vicinity would bring them to their father, who, as it behooved the fathers of that time, would not spare the rod to spoil them. The father’s friends in the also took it upon themselves to punish them if they could catch them wading through waterlogged streets to nowhere or throwing pieces of broken marble slabs (stacked in the attic) to anyone. The neighbors used to refer to the house as “teen dushtu chheler bari”.

            Of course they had to attend schools but whatever spare time could be gleaned, was spent in cricket, foot ball which includes both playing and watching important matches with the uncles who were members of famous club houses, flying kites and preparing the paraphernalia for the d-day, ie, ‘viswakarma pujo’, making ‘rangmashal’ and ‘tubri’ for ‘kali pujo’ or taking active part in smart occupations like the scouts or the N.C.C. It was no wonder that they were often caught snoozing at the time of home work in the evening and could not be cajoled by their beloved mother to get up and have dinner. Except for a few months before the annual examinations, they used to enjoy a life charted by them without a care in the world.

        
            Over the years, the brothers became adults with families, children and grandchildren. They have earned the title of ‘senior citizens’ and sport balding pates with silver lining. Now their bodies include hearing aid and pace makers not to mention the bi-focals. Nevertheless, their spirit has not diminished. They still revel at the joys of life and shout at the top of their voices to establish their own opinion on politics, sports or the current affairs. They may be gaining in years but not getting old for sure! They still live in the same house that is been taken care of by them as their father and grandfather used to do. Gathered around the cradle of a new arrival in the family, they spend their evenings together even today.

 I would just like to know whether there is any one who refers to the house as "teen buror bari” now.