DIGENE DRINKING OWLS

Finally, I decided to share my first article on LinkedIn. After years of procrastination, speculation and solitude, let's do this, shall we?

Since it is supposed to be the beginning, I feel the need for rewinding to the point from where it all began. When a person traces her journey, it is usually a tale of inspirations and aspirations like every one of you.

Some might have exceptional stories to tell, but my simple story began with a humble bottle of Digene Syrup.

Yes, the same Digene syrup which is a beautiful antacid and is a staple in almost every Bengali household.

I am very sure that many of you might have encountered that historic bout of hyperacidity at some point or the other in your life when rushing to this 'Plain Jane' bottle of Digene for rescue seemed like the only possible remedy. And then SURPRISE! It did work! Right? 

It was my beloved grandmother Late Smt. Gauri Mukherjee who introduced me to the sublime art of storytelling with this bottle of Digene Syrup-her soulmate. (After my Grandfather of course). She protected it with fierce loyalty like a prized possession or a family heirloom.

I can still sometimes feel the warmth of her skin, the wrinkles of her tiny palms and her long salt and pepper hair fanned all over her pillow while she used to cuddle me in her arms every night.

Named Gauri, yet her olive skin made me believe that she was an inseparable part of the dark night which I was overly fond of. I share her skin colour and I find it the most beautiful aspect of her being. We were the 'Sada Saree te Kalo Border' which roughly translates as 'we were the dark border on the simple saree.' She loved her skin and made me respect my skin colour too. A truly empowered 'all-inclusive' woman of her times.

'Paincha' or 'Owl' as she would call me with affection; I was her nightmare who would chew her brains every night for new stories.

That winter night in Lucknow was one such night too! Perhaps something that changed my entire life forever. Fed up with my constant nagging, my Dida (grandmother) started her usual futile attempt to lull me to sleep using her favourite technique -a story with a twist. 

She began mumbling some incoherent words while my slender fingers played with her languid curls which she had massaged thoroughly with mustard oil.

"Once upon a time, there was a massive drought in a forest. Scanty rainfall had made all the animals suffer in misery and cry for mercy. There was cacophony everywhere. Some animals fled while some fought amongst each other because of the scarcity of resources.

One such terrible night, a fleet of thirsty and tired owls spotted a bottle of Digene syrup. (I know there isn't any connection between them, but my grandmother couldn't have got a vivid imagination in a half sleepy mode. She construed and constructed the most straightforward possible story ever.)

So, every Owl wanted to drink it first, and a big fight began. Sometimes thirst and deprivation can make even the calmest souls like devils incarnate. They hooted and scratched each other to gain access to the Digene Syrup and be the sole owner of the bottle.

An aged wise owl who was watching this mayhem from a distance stepped in to break the mini mutiny which was about to be raised in the group.

She announced – "We will drink one at a time, and every owl will be allowed to drink only one sip."

It took her a while to argue and explain her case, but ultimately she was able to convince everyone. The owls agreed, and then they started drinking one by one."

My Dida asked me to count them one by one as they took drinking turns at the Syrup. I was excited and started counting Digene drinking owls in my imagination while she dozed off pretty much within a few seconds.

The first rays of the dawn broke her sleep, and she was amused to find me with wide-open eyes and still counting.

"Ei tui akhuno jege achish paincha', she exclaimed.

(Wow! You are still awake, my dear Owl?)

That story was lost somewhere in my memory, and from then every night, I would count owls drinking Digene.

After years, now I realize the message behind the story.

Moral of the story- In tough times, whenever there is chaos, wise people choose to become the problem solvers. They generate harmony, build team effort and instil patience in even the most agitated souls. So make a smart choice and be a wise owl!

 Best,

Dr. Ipsita (Piu) Chatterjee

The Saree-Clad Spiritual Corporate Woman