Me 

Is not life is like a road? Keeping a new secret hidden at every turn and twist. Some bitter some sweet. May be it becomes a bit boring when the road straightens out some time for a long time; but you never know when the next turn may come; so just try to enjoy the straight road while it lasts...

Durga Puja; just these two words brings back an avalanche of memories… Strangely when I think of Puja; it’s not that of the image of Ma Durga that comes to my mind; instead it’s the smell of fire crackers and bang of toy pistols. The earliest memory of Puja in my mind is that of a beautiful pearl handled (fake) pistol. Dad gave it to me when we went to Calcutta (It was still Calcutta and not Kolkota). The pistol became an inseparable part of mine. I was about 8 years old and pistol was making me feel just like Phantom (My hero of that period). It was bang bang all the time. Ma had a hell of a time trying to separate me from my pistol. But I will not be persuaded. After all who has seen Phatom without his pistols?
The there was those sessions of Chor Police (Cops and the robbers) with neighborhood boys; we used to play that game all the time but Puja gave it its special flavours because of the pistols.

Going to be at home during Puja this year; but will dad give me a pearl handled pistol this time? Will I have those friends to play chor Police again. What price I wont pay to get my childhood back for a few days…