Cocktail

By Antara Sarkar

The main characters of these stories pursue unconventional career goals. Their conviction, individuality, and vision have made them legendary in their own rights.
Their predicaments have been depicted through their stories – discomfort in their work lives, turmoil in their personal relationships, struggles of building educational and vocational setups in their villages.
This book aspires to motivate us to think beyond “peer pressure” and live a life of our own choices. How these characters guide their lives through obstacles and societal stigmas will be an endorsement of their never say die attitude.

Cocktail occupies a special place in my heart. I hope this book helps you find your inner self.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Oct 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9789390040971

Antara Sarkar

Antara Sarkar is a dynamic person with a vision of a beautiful society, where people courageously follow their dreams, are supportive towards a common goal and respect human values.She hails from Siliguri, a small town along the foothills of Darjeeling. Her father, Amit Sarkar, is a retired service holder in BSNL while her mother, Rina Sarkar is a homemaker. She studied civil engineering from NIT Durgapur; she is a structural engineer by profession and a writer by passion. She lives in Delhi. This literary work is her first published work, with the purpose to inspire people to listen to their hearts and not the noise that drowns it out.She can be reached on mail at [e-mail]; Instagram page #thewiseant; website www.wiseant.in

Book preview

WARMTH OF THE LAP

AGONY

Sanchita was the fruit of her parents’ love and their long-standing devotion. Like almost every other single child, she was the amalgamation of her parents’ long-cherished dreams. Being raised in a suburban neighbourhood and studying in a nearby school, the first time she stepped out of her hometown was when she turned eighteen. As soon as the umbrella of affection was taken away from her, it was replaced by the abode of ambition that was her journalism college.

The pampered young girl found a whole new world in this new setup. It certainly offered her freedom, but it also brought new challenges. She no longer had her mother’s homecooked food or her father’s company as he used to drive her to school and coaching classes before. Over time, she transformed from a timid young girl into an independent, confident woman. Introverted Sanchita became a social and amiable personality.

Time escorted her as it does to everyone, and she bagged a lucrative job. A cubicle in a Bangalore-based MNC, working as an executive editor at a young age, became her reality. Career aside, Sanchita’s personal life was filled with mishaps. She had suffered through three failed relationships, and no matter how hard she tried to steer clear of love and its side effects, she always found herself trapped. ‘Do those heartbreaks even matter to you?’ someone once asked her. Of course, they did. No matter how many times it happens, getting used to a heartbreak is nearly impossible.

In search of luxury, glamour and freedom, a chasm formed in her soul. Sanchita tried, sometimes fanatically, to fill this abyss of dissatisfaction with every new man she met. Her heart was replenished as she was painted in a different colour by these men each time. But when they left, the void would open back up, brimming over with darkness and sheer pain that floated in her blood. Most of her efforts ended up unfulfilled and broke her from within.

This time it was an office colleague who became her lover. A guy named Saikat was pursuing her for more than a year. His desperate effort drew depressed Sanchita’s attention, sweeping her off her feet and taking her to the top of the world. But winning her so easily wasn’t satisfactory, and he fell for someone else in the same office within a few months.

It was a sad day for Sanchita. She was strolling on the office-terrace and working on an article. Her attention went to the open-air coffee shop on the ground floor lawn where Saikat and a new trainee were sitting. Saikat was lifting the cup close to her mouth, while she blushed and fawned as she sipped. They were looking at each other the same way Saikat used to look at Sanchita three months back when they had started going out.

That day she turned into an observer of that romantic scene. In a moment, several instances flashed through her mind. She had ignored them before, incidents when he had been flirting with other women while she was with him. He always made excuses, and she let it slide, but that day she knew what she was seeing. It conveyed to her the truth. What she assumed to be his passionate love was nothing but his lust that bulged out upon seeing any attractive woman.

Sanchita and Saikat had booked a hotel room for that night a week ago. That time they were intimate in a public place, and they both were craving for unleashed intimacy. But seeing this new version of her lover, Sanchita was sure that Saikat would forget their plan. At 11 p.m. that night, she waited impatiently, pacing in the garden beside her rented apartment. The silence of the night reminded her of all those times she had been ignored and overlooked by the selfish people she loved the most. She had bought a strip of sleeping pills to assuage her disturbed mind. She sat on the lawn chair and waited for Saikat to call. Covering herself with a shawl, she didn’t realise when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was 8 a.m. She knew that sadness as an excuse for shunning work was unrighteous as the piled-up work on her office desk demanded her presence. So, she rushed to the office. There were ten messages and five missed calls from Saikat’s number as she switched her cell phone on, but all her feelings for him were left behind in the cold of the previous night.

Sanchita punched in at the biometric clock ten minutes before the scheduled office time as usual and planned out her day, sticking a post-it on the wooden wall just beside her computer screen. She knew that her life deserved a stricter long-term resolution. Her undulating mind needed a healing treatment. Her phone kept vibrating in her bag. She looked at it, exasperated. Baba flashed across the screen. She put it on silent mode and sighed as she sat down. Being intoxicated at times, the hectic workload and irregular sleep schedule didn’t allow her to receive calls from her parents. She hadn’t spoken to them properly for almost over a year. The last time her mother called, she was at an office party. Someone made a joke that she was a mama’s girl, which embarrassed her so much that she never looked at her phone in public again.

As the clock struck 9:30, people started walking into the office. ‘You seem stressed, Sanchita. Is everything okay?’ One of her co-workers snapped her out of her trance. Sanchita looked up and smiled. ‘I’m in office, nothing is ever okay here.’ She laughed and turned away. There had to be a better way to deal with stress, she told herself as her colleague smiled and headed back to her desk.

Mostly everyone in the office was acquainted with Sanchita’s optimistic personality and her fondness for work.

Through the rest of the day, she completely detached herself from any unprofessional human interaction and remained stuck to her seat. Several phone calls came from a few of her colleagues, including Saikat, which she politely declined. She did not want to reveal anything about herself or her mood or lose her composure. During her lunch break, she went to the local market next to the office arena to escape mundane lunchtime gossip.

A series of shops huddled in a row along the main road. They provided a variety of facilities such as technical support, baked goods, sports equipment, and street food. Sanchita stopped for food at the most crowded stall. Her food was quickly served. She stood at one of the tables and ate quietly. The busboy who served her saw she looked stressed.

‘Ma’am, here is your food. Have this curd chicken, and you’ll forget all your worries.’ He said cheerfully and walked away.

Stalking the profile of her ex-boyfriends took up most of Sanchita’s free time. She continued stalking them as she had her lunch. The heave of her emotions from her past relationships left her no space for the new ones. She had installed several dating apps on her phone to keep herself distracted but always went back to see what her exes were up to.

She finished her food and returned to her 9x12 foot cubicle to resume the day’s work. No matter how hard she struggled to turn a blind eye to her emotional issues, a part of her always desired to find that someone special in the most dramatic way possible. During the office hours that day, she updated her profile on Tinder and Bumble and scrolled through what showed up. She was in no mood to work.

The week passed quickly because of the excessive workload. Sanchita was anxiously waiting for the weekend; she had fixed her dating with two boys whom she had matched through one of those sites. But when she glanced over at Saikat that Friday evening, she had second thoughts.

CALLING

A couple of weeks passed. One Sunday morning, she sat sipping her coffee in an armchair on her balcony. The park of her locality lay before her. The park was full of colourful flowers and alive with chirping birds and frolicking children.

She had a flatmate who shared the same balcony, but Sanchita’s hectic lifestyle left very little room for interaction. That day, her balcony door was partly open, with the red curtain of her room and the windchime hanging from the pelmet swaying with the wind. A burst of charming laughter floated to Sanchita, enticing her to lookout. A little while later, the girl came out in the balcony. She was Maitreyee. She was lively and sweet. She had a broad smile on her face as she saw Sanchita. ‘What a pleasant morning it is! I never knew that you are such an amazing writer.’ She said.

Sanchita was perplexed at this mention as she had no idea about the source of this information. Her neighbour paused for a moment, then continued.

‘I saw your article on women empowerment in the newspaper today. Have you not seen it?’

Before Sanchita could respond, her phone rang. She smiled and held up her finger, indicating she wanted Maitreyee to wait. She ran inside and picked up the phone.

It was her boss. ‘Sanchita, congratulations! Since morning we have received many calls applauding your article. Good job, you have made us proud.’ Sanchita smiled and mumbled, unable to get any words out. Her boss went on. ‘There is an invitation from a media house for you to attend a political discourse as one of the speakers. Are you interested? Let me know by Monday.’

Sanchita was stupefied. She again mumbled something, and her boss hung up. Sanchita stared at her phone in joy. This was something she had wanted to do for over a year but never got the chance. But now amid her emotional turmoil, success had arrived out of nowhere, giving her validation and self-confidence that she so badly needed to compensate for her pain.

As soon as she came to her senses, Sanchita rushed out to pick up the newspaper lying on her balcony. There she found her article at the bottom left corner on Page 12.

Maitreyee was gone. Sanchita sat down, trying to compose herself. She placed the unfolded paper over her thighs and stared out into the sky. Her phone rang again, snapping her out of her daydream. It seemed it was only her phone and its ringtone that kept her tethered to reality.

An infuriated voice filled her ear as she picked up her phone again. ‘I know that one should have an appointment even to talk to such a busy person like you. But if this time you betray me with any shitty professional excuse, you will lose my friendship. Do not take this lightly!’ It took almost a minute for Sanchita to recognise that it was her childhood friend Poulomi, yet she didn’t know the reason for her outrage. ‘Wait, please tell me that you did not forget that only two weeks are left for my wedding?’

Sanchita gasped. She had, indeed, forgotten. But she was relieved that Poulomi didn’t know that. ‘No, no Poulomi, my love! I remember that; how could I ever forget your wedding! I was planning to surprise you by not discussing my plan with you beforehand.’ She had lied for the moment, but she knew she would have to back it up later by acting on her word.

Poulomi’s aggravated voice turned calmer. ‘You’re such a liar. But fine, I’ll wait. If possible, come here for a week. My mom keeps stressing out about how things will work without Sanchita’s presence.’

‘I’ll come.’ Sanchita comforted her. The phone call had come like a tornado, bustling the turmoil of her thoughts. Was it too much to ask to be left alone in peace? Why was she not allowed to have some soulful breaths in the air of her self-made setup?

Sanchita remained seated in the same position. The image of her mother and father appeared before her. The wind blowing through the red, yellow, and white flowers of her childhood home rushed to her to plant kisses of nostalgia and homesickness on her cheeks. In her half-conscious state of mind, she went back to the garden of her own house where she used to play with her friends. Her father used to pay an occasional visit to act as a referee in all those games. Gradually, as she went out for higher studies, the gap between her and her parents slowly grew wider.

In the evening, Sanchita went out to buy some groceries and household stuff. Her boss called her again. ‘Sanchita, your debate has been postponed by a month. That’s good. You’ll have ample time to prepare yourself.’ He remarked.

Poulomi’s voice was already throbbing in her head. Now her boss’s words added to her headache. She hung up and walked into a showroom of watches. She asked the shopkeeper to show her a golden strap for her wristwatch.

Her eyes were drawn to a child who was holding his mother’s hand while staring at the display of wristwatches before him. He was helping his mother to choose one among them. This innocent sight left a blissful influence on the people in the store and made them smile.

It took Sanchita to an incident of the past. Jewellery and dresses had never interested her much. She was more in love with the books, often buying a massive stack of books and flooding her room with them. Her mother tried to steer her interest in the world of fashion and took her to a showroom every once in a while. In that instant, Sanchita felt the urge to call her parents, although she knew that it would be a shock to them. She could not recall the last time she called them.

She pressed the calling button of her cell phone. It started ringing. Her mom picked up. A mostly monosyllabic conversation went on for two minutes.

‘Hello, Sanchita!’

‘Mom!’

‘Beta, are you fine?’

‘Yes, mom.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I came to the local market. How are you, mom?’

‘I am fine, my girl.’

‘How is dad?’

‘Your dad is also fine. These days he is suffering from severe back pain because of spondylitis.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He went out for an evening walk after a long time.’

‘I’ll call you later then.’

‘He’ll be happy to know that you called.’

‘Take care, mom.’

‘You take care of yourself too, beta.’

The meagre exchange of words was over. Sanchita could not carry the conversation any longer as it would sound abnormal to both of them, for neither she nor her parents had been able to find a reason to extend the duration of their conversation in the past few years. But despite that, she still missed home.

Sanchita bought some junk food from a restaurant, but it tasted so pathetic that she had to throw it away. If she had been with her parents, she would be relishing a delicious meal sitting on her cosy bed with the mumble of the television in the background. The state of our mind drives us in different directions during various phases of our lives, and we end up making decisions in the spur of the moment. The thought of basking in laziness in the comfort of her parents’ home created an enthusiastic spark in her. It instigated Sanchita to whimsically book a flight ticket for home. She easily got leave for two weeks. It did not take long for her to disconnect herself from all the work she had piled up at her desk.

ABODE

Abhijeet Dasgupta

Piyali Dasgupta

Sanchita Dasgupta

A nameplate was dangling at the main gate with the names of the family members. This emblem of belongingness enwrapped Sanchita in immense love.

It was 3:25 p.m., when she pressed the doorbell of her house. The bird had returned to her own nest to taste the pleasure of confinement. A middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard wearing an ink-stained white kurta opened the door. He stared at her silently, holding the latch of the door. Sanchita could make out his skin had lost its sheen. His hair was turning white. She too could not say anything and stared in silence at her father. At last, she managed