Day 2: My Dad's Stories

My father is an amazing storyteller. Especially vibrant are his stories that take place in his hometown of Calcutta. I’ve heard them over and over again - we all have; but he tells them with such excitement and gusto each time, it’s impossible not to be captivated.My father’s mother passed away when he was very young; “I hardly remember her face,” he tells me. His father, forever faithful to his wife, never remarried. Each of the five kids had their roles in the household, and during Ramadan my dad’s job was to buy the fruit for iftaar and prepare the kachaloo (fruit salad). They lived on Zakariya Street near Nakhoda Mosque. “From our house all the way to the masjid, the farmers would set up their carts and sell their products.” My dad would buy bananas – a dozen for 2 rupees – apples, mangoes, and whatever fruit was in season. They would have iftaar and dinner and walk to Nakhoda mosque for Tarawih prayers.   The best night was the night before Eid, my dad tells me. “That was a very very long night.” The streets would be alive with vendors selling mitahi and chooris and garlands. They would buy buttons for their kurtas and Eid cards. My dad’s favorite Eid tradition was to buy a tram pass, which on Eid was a set price of one rupee. He and his brothers would ride the tram for hours and hours on Eid, going wherever the tram would go.Four years ago, I had the chance to take my Dad home – to Zakariya Street in Calcutta. And Dad’s stories came to life. We walked down those same streets bustling with fruit sellers; heard the azan from Nakhoda Mosque; went to 25 Zakariya street where dad spent his childhood Ramadans; and saw the blue tram that made his Eids so special. And for a brief moment, I got a glimpse of my dad as a young boy living the experiences that would make his future stories so enchanting.Day 2, Tradition 2: Riding a blue tram on Eidhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V668ufSHhP4&feature=youtu.be