Friends and Strangers

As some of you may have noticed (or at least, I really hope that you noticed!), I have been on a sabbatical for the last few months. My travel schedule and workload were both completely out of control, so I decided to take a break from my beloved column. Working on a promotion strategy for the “Lifelines” anthology that I recently edited for the Indian publisher Zubaan Books has been far more time-consuming than I could ever have anticipated. To think that I'd assumed that my job was done once the 15 stories from Bangladesh became a final edited manuscript in the hands of the publisher!

My little friend's inspiration?

Zubaan is a highly respected niche publisher, but as a small press its PR resources are limited. In any case, the truth is that these day authors and editors are expected to be in the forefront of promoting the books that they thought that they “only” had to write or edit. Everything from putting the word out about the book and where it is available, to organising reviews, to ensuring that the books are supplied to events and festivals in time be comes the writer or editor's responsibility/headache.

One of the biggest challenges involves persuading booksellers that they should stock the book (and in this case, import copies from India to Bangladesh). While Bookworm took the lead in bringing the “Lifelines” anthology to readers in Dhaka, I breathed a sigh of relief after the book became available at Aranya and UPL as well. And I was absolutely delighted to hear from my friend Latif that he was able to obtain his copy from Papyrus in Aziz Market. For our book to have made it to Aziz Market, which holds such a special place in the hearts of book-lovers in Dhaka, is quite an achievement!

So all in all, the last few months have been fairly exhausting, if educational. My steep learning curve has gradually started to flatten through this frantic process - I've made some unexpected new friends, and even sold a few books. But other things in my life, from family and friends to writing columns and stories, have taken a back seat for far too long. And I was recently reminded just how important friends can be. Not only the ones that you already know you have, but also the ones that the universe can send you unexpectedly - sometimes in a fleeting encounter, at other times in what you instinctively know is the beginning of a “forever” friendship.

Like the time I was sitting on the plane, waiting to take off for Kolkata. I had been counting my blessings that the flight was more or less on time. Other passengers were queuing past my seat when a little boy caught my eye. He was very cute, with big black eyes and chubby cheeks that begged to be pinched. For anyone who's wondering, I never give in to these cheek-mauling impulses (however tempting), even with children whom I know well, because I have yet to meet a child who actually likes it when you do this.

He maintained solemn eye-contact in response to my smile, and stopped just as the queue was moving forward, so that he was standing right next to me. He clearly had something to say. I wondered guiltily if his comment was going to be along the lines of, "Don't you even look at these lovely cheeks of mine - don't even think about it, lady!" But as it turned out, he was following another train of thought altogether.

"Plane, plane," he said, with some urgency. I nodded to indicate that I agreed with him about our current location. "Bhoynei, bhoynei!" ("There's nothing to fear!"), he assured me earnestly, before his mother dragged him off. As he disappeared, he threw me a belated, sweet smile backwards. He was trying to conquer his own fears and be Batman, I think…

Shortly afterwards, I had a lovely moment with an immigration official at Kolkata airport. Naturally, he asked me why I was in Kolkata. Upon hearing that I was a writer, and seeing the copy of “Lifelines” that I was carrying, he smiled. I told him how excited I had been about being part of the Kolkata BoiMela and its affiliated literature festival, the Kolkata Lit Meet (KaLaM) a few weeks earlier, and that I was now stopping by on the way to Chennai where I had been invited to be a panellist at another literature festival. He responded warmly, "Khubibhalo - bar barashben" (“That's wonderful - you must come back again and again”)! And in that moment, I knew I was dealing with a true Bengali. And not only because of the language that he spoke in.

The joyous tone to the trip continued as I made a quick stop at the home of two good friends, Roopa and Anil, with whom I was staying overnight before I continued on my way the Lit for Life Festival in Chennai, sponsored by The Hindu newspaper. What good friends these two are, is in fact evidenced by their kindness in sending someone to pick me up at the airport, plying me with tea and snacks on my arrival, and declining to utter a single murmur of complaint about my nerve in expecting to stay at their house while I used my one evening in Kolkata to have dinner with another friend!

The friend I was off to see was Sampura Chattarji, an accomplished novelist and author of the recently-released collection of short stories, “Dirty Love”. She is someone who also holds the singular honour of being the translator - from Bangla into English - of Sukumar Ray's wonderful "AbolTabol". We had been fellow panellists a few weeks previously at the Kolkata Lit Meet (the event that I had mentioned to the immigration official), and hit it off in a big way. To the naked eye, Sampurna and I are probably quite different, not least because of her bubbly personality and the fact that she views social interaction as a kind of extreme sport. I myself tend to view it, all too often, as an extreme challenge.

Farah (left) and Sampurna (middle) at Kolkata Lit Meet panel.

Despite that, we got along eerily well. I say 'eerily', because there was a strange sense of familiarity about it, as if I had known her forever. And to make matters even stranger, she felt exactly the same way. So we had arranged to meet up on this brief stopover in Kolkata, to check if our earlier encounter had been a fluke. Our designated meeting place was the wonderful Red Hot Chilli Pepper restaurant, which I recommend highly to Kolkata-bound lovers of Chinese cuisine. Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm, I had severely underestimated the time it would take to get from the airport to my friend Roopa's house to dump the suitcase - not to mention the joys of Kolkata's completely illogical one-way system that was of course not working in my favour that evening. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was the night before Lakshmi Puja, and the whole city was busy decorating in anticipation of the celebrations the next day.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, poor Sampurna arrived at the restaurant at the suggested time of 630, only to find out that not only was I nowhere in sight, but the restaurant didn't even open until 7 PM! She called me frantically from the small reception area, where she was more or less crouching on the sofa in order to avoid the attentions of the zealous cleaner who was wielding her mop with murderous inaccuracy, and her equally enthusiastic colleague who was spraying the restaurant with an evil smelling, supposedly mosquito-repelling substance that was more or less guaranteed to send human beings into a coma.

It is a testament to Sampurna's grace and generosity that when I arrived, half an hour late, she forgave me on the spot. An evening of remarkable enjoyment and utter hilarity followed, as we successfully ignored all the romantic Valentine's couples who had emerged from their love nests for a candlelight dinner. When we parted ways a few hours later, Sampurna turned down my offer of a lift, assuring me that she would have no problem getting home, because her 'regular' taxi driver was coming to pick her up.

As I found out, on this occasion she had stretched the truth a little, albeit unintentionally. Because in fact she accidentally managed to get into the wrong car - and it was only thanks to the driver politely pointing out that fact to her, that she was able to get safely out and await her real ride! With every American crime series scenario running through my head, I could only shudder in gratitude that she had not been whisked off to some villain's lair instead (yes, I know I have a vivid imagination - that's why I chose writing as a form of therapy!)

As for me, when I returned to my lodgings, I found that my host Roopa had been busy in my absence. My room had been magically equipped with an internet-enabled laptop, bottles of shower gel and moisturiser, a piece of chocolate cake and three small bags of Bingo Mad Angles (which she knows are my favourite - one for immediate consumption and two “for later”, during my arduous journey). She had severely overestimated my appetite, but not the sense of gratitude which left me pondering the blessing of amazing friends who make you feel as if their home is your own. And, in the process, render travel – no matter how hectic the schedule might be – a far more enjoyable experience.