Of cosmic loneliness, Flury’s in old Calcutta.
BLOG: Labanya’s Curiosity Shop
By Labanya Mookerjee
PHILADELPHIA: As an avid lover of the American Transcendentalists, I have always lived by Thoreau’s mantra, “Simplify, simplify, simplify!” It’s the ultimate call to forsake all excess to reach out to the true core of existence.
But, when I look into the golden sheen of this antique cup that I hold in my palm, fashioned by the world and the frail, mortal hands of humanity, I see that it brims with the magic that eclipses the eternal turning of the universe—that magic of living that is so often lost in our coarse, day-to-day routines.
The baby-blue tinted bar of cocoa, iced with a champagne pink and a fresh rose, takes me back to the colorful alleys of old Calcutta’s Park Street. I remember myself fifteen years younger, clinging on to my mother’s skirts during Easter, pleading with her to let me have a taste of Flury’s softly glittering pastries.
Flury’s was at the very corner of the market street. I could recognize that emblematic pink and white sign from a thousand miles away. A sugary, cool breeze would brush past me as I entered the bakery. I recall the shop decorated with intricate statues made from surplus batter. There were sweets of all shapes, colors and sizes: lemon tarts, almond and cashew horseshoes, black forest cake, chocolate-dipped strawberries, raspberry cake, and my very favorite: strawberry cake stuffed between two thin pieces of flaky, melt-in-the-mouth cookies.
The colors matched the wildflowers hemmed at the rim of the little cup. Nestled within, is a perched white dove, evoking the old thrill that had warmed my young heart on a monsoon day. Up on a tree, soaked to the skin, I had chanced upon a small, twigged nest with four pale blue eggs tucked into its roughed edges.
With dew-dropped eyes, I had gazed into the little home with that awe of a child, peeking into the hope of budding life. I recall believing myself to be a bird with painfully overgrown limbs and awkward feathers that had anchored me to the stones of earth, restraining me from stepping out the windowsill and flying away into the stars.
oh whippoorwill
you make my heart stand still
when I hear your evening sound
I know you’re sad, much deeper
than my human ears can hear
And when I see that glimmering light emerging from the candle in the hollow nook of the cup, I remember the night I felt shot with the sting of cosmic loneliness, longing to be united with some familiar, yet celestial link that would free us from this fragmented world of loss and gain. So like a plaintive serenade, words from Rilke’s poetry float by:
Who has twisted us around like this, so that
No matter what we do, we are in the posture
of someone going away?
…so we live here, forever taking leave.
And, today I light a candle to call upon all the missing, those beyond the confines of human touch, with the understanding that the indefinable link that we spend our entire lives in searching for, can be found in no earthly object, no friend, no ambition, but in the pulsating deep rhythm that echoes unknown amongst us all.
And, this cup, with all its plastic beauty, serving no functional purpose in the world of mechanics and statistics, has a flint-like power to preserve the essence of my living, reminding me of the true nature of my heart when I have forgotten it in the heat and etiquette of society. Quite like the lyrics of an old Bengali song:
Why, my child, when I have called you by name,
Do you dwell among strangers, within homes not your own?
Look, who calls you from far across the mighty seas…
(Labanya Mookerjee graduated with high distinction from Penn State this year with degrees in English Literature, American Studies and Civic Engagement. She is currently teaching English at the Writing Studio in Penn State Brandywine and is the assistant of the Director of the Schreyer and Cooper Honors Programs. She has received the Tim Marks scholarship for the Arts, the Academic Excellence Award and the 2013 Francis J. Ryan award for “Best Undergraduate Research Paper” at Eastern American Studies Association Conference. She is involved with fund-raising for Art Programs in inner-city, Philadelphia schools.)
To contact the author, e-mail: editor@americanbazaaronline.com