Wetlands memories or a spatiotemporal journey called the life

When kaleidoscope reaches at the fringes of the Rajarhat, New Town, near a place locally known as the Pyancha more - the owl crossing, a sudden smell in the hot and humid air made his travel not only  a spatial one, but also a temporal one. He forgot the origin of that fowl smell but he could vaguely recall similar smell from about two decades back. Kaleidoscope, stopped and parked the car to trace the origin of the smell.  It felt like he was striving for a time and space that doesn't exist. Someone from the hot and humid midday sun appear from the back of the wetland vegetation and took Kaleido's hand. Yes, a travel back to childhood was on the go. Kaleidoscope had to stop somewhere at the liminal margin. The road ended and a muddy way began. The old and 'real' Rajarhat muddy way I thought. 

The smell was very close, and Kaleidoscope could now understand that it was a smell of the leftover. As the fishing was over in the morning, fishermen kept the water 'debris' including the rotten snails and other molluscs along with the underwater mud we call 'paaNk' in Bengali. The fowl smell, which is otherwise unbearable to many was refreshing to Kaleidoscope. He was already mesmerised with the wide open wetland where the city boundary looked tired and helpless. The great wetland, Kaleidoscope thought. 

The source of the smell 

There was no one else but an middle aged gentleman waiting with the fishing rod patiently. The time suddenly looked slow and crippling. We both greeted each other. and he gave me a fantastic bicycle story. 

The bicycle in the front and the storyteller  at the back

He comes from a distant place. His cows know the location. He set them free in the early morning. He comes on his bicycle around 9:00 am. He has to stay here for the entire day. So, all he does is fishing. In the evening he rings his cycle bell and cows gathers for a return journey to home. Its because of his bicycle that he finds it easy to gather and mange cows for a journey of 8 KM.

Kaleidoscope could only hope that the city stops spreading further and the wetlands remain like it always have, for centuries. 

A cracking sound of the bronze winged jacana made Kaleidoscope aware that it was no longer his childhoods and that he now has a fast clock to follow.