My father-in-law's first death anniversary was on May 1. Since then there was a continuous stream of deaths and death-related ceremonies that hopeully ended last week. First Pinujethu's prolonged illness and eventually passing away. Kajolmami's father's passing. Then P mashi and mesho's batshoriks. Shejomamidida's shraddha and niyam bhanga last week. Other deaths in the extended family and friend circles. Thankfully, all the people in question had been seriously ill, largely suffering from incurable cancer, so one is relieved that they got out of it rather than otherwise, but it never fails to surprise me how these things come in streaks.
Rahul is finally starting to speak in English a little or at least is less stubborn about refusing to speak it. It probably has something to do with me speaking to him in English now. I made it a point to speak to him in Bangla for the first couple of years so now I need to remember to use English in my dealings with him, but I do and he's responding. He is also picking up many Bangal pronunciations from Vicky which tend to jar me but I suppose that's what you get when you give birth to Undivided Bengal, as I have been known to refer to him.
It's been a busy time at the agency. Also, when Rahul was away for all of June I got into the habit of staying for longer hours at the office and it is now a bit of an effort to wind up my work in time.
Last Wednesday Vicky succumbed to a nasty attack of flu that started with a badly upset tummy. Rahul started his version the next day. I started mine on Monday. I'm feeling quite sorry for myself. Rahul started antibiotics last night though, so things should look up soon. Also, Vicky's doing much better now, touchwood.
On the other hand, my parents reach Cal tomorrow. My dad retired and this time, they are coming here for good. This weekend promises to be hard work. Moore Avenue, where they will live, is an unmitigated mess, with cartons half unpacked all over the place, cupboards overflowing with decades of 'treasures' and I have rashly promised my mother that I will help her sort it out. I went over on Saturday to see the state of things and discovered old letters and cards and schoolbooks, projects and records from high school. I need to dispose of much of that before Vicky sees them because there is enough in there to keep him laughing at me for the rest of my life.
On a related note, I cannot get over what a cheeky young kid I was. When I think back I recall a sober and sedate young lady, very conscientious and, well, sober and sedate. The letters, from friends I made in different cities as we moved with my father, tell a different story and are such fun to read. I even discovered a book of rules for a club we once formed when I was 10 or so. Ridiculous stuff. A card I got for my mother when she had her hysterectomy and was away in the hospital. I missed her very badly so Mejopishi took me to the shops and we got her a card and flowers to welcome her home. It's funny how the card brings it back so vividly. Birthday cards and letters from Shejomama who always remembered to send one in time every year.
Tonight promises to be fun. A bunch of us friends are going out for dinner, if all goes well. Tomorrow my parents will stop at Lake Gardens on their way home from Howrah for lunch so I need to make sure there's enough food and clean bathrooms and so on.