My very first try at a simple fictional story-line built up with some real life experiences, humble characters & the thoughts of an ordinary mind.
We had planned that July well in advance, it was great old nana’s
95th birthday and we all wanted to be there and celebrate life
along with him. My little ones, Myrah & Smyan where too excited to get into
the city they knew very little about. From our last trip which was almost two
years back, the only thing they remembered beyond their paternal grandparents’
humble little villa was the sea creek beyond it & the green lush mangroves
siding it up.
Decking up the suitcases in the hallway, I made a last dash for
our monsoon accessories, two “Disney” raincoats and vibrant umbrellas for the
noisy buggers; two “Quechua” raincoats, all of which we had specially got from
the Decathlon store for this trip. All that was going to go into the
“Wildcraft” bag pack to be taken as our hand luggage again just bought for our
journey.
The cab arrived on time and we all howled a ‘Hip hip hippy hurray!
Happy holidays’ and got in swiftly into the sedan with jerky us and screechy
kids. It was a smooth drive, and finally I let out my sigh on drifting away
from the mundane daily to the much awaited break. My hubby gave me a reassuring
smile, bringing in that same old “I will win the world” glow on my face.
The flight was delayed by thirty minutes and it got us a chance to
nibble on some junk which of course for the kids is delicacy enough. I never
knew what was a burger or pizza until I was in my high school. And now, it
seems this western street food has taken over on getting into the staple food
list for this generation. I have never been able to understand the wobbling and
gobbling speed difference between home cooked food & these brand loaded
piece of junk. Breaking away from my thoughts, I looked at my hubby who was
just ending his very urgent call from office. Well, of course that call ended
the moment he saw my nose ready to puff out the fire. “We Promised, it’s a
hands free holiday!” “It was the last one, I got the instant reply.”
The flight was again very calming, not very crowded. I got into
reading the magazine from the seat pouch. My hubby wanted to take a power nap
before we descend, so that he is up on his feet for all the birthday
preparation we had to do for the next two days. The kids were busy with some
game they used to play in their school bus. The time for their uncontrollable
edgy need for our gadgets, did come in after some time. But, this holiday we
had already told them was coming with no mobiles or ipads. It’s that moment of
saying ‘No’ I feel gives me my migraine, but then, it’s like that journey to
prove and take away the crown of parenting at times and then feeling like
running away most of the times. But, then we are responsible for this
wicked lifestyle, aren’t we? The lines between work & home rarely fades,
taking in our kids too for the virtual ride.
It was time to land and for my hubby to wake up. He opened his
eyes to a sulky me. What happened? He asked sheepishly twisting himself out of
his slumber pose. The weather, I said, they just announced, its pouring cats
and dogs. Our kids are so used to the arid, extreme, rarely monsoon climate of
Delhi, I don’t know how they are going to accept the slushy time ahead. Hmmmm,
hymned my husband pouting his lips. In a while, looking out of the window he
said, “Making way for Mumbai in the rains all depends on your individual
psyche, it could either make you fall in love or make you feel betrayed for the
rest of your life”. He grinned, pushing his eye brows up & down, feeling
cool about his ability to cook up this on the spot tag line.
It took us more than it took us above the ground, to reach our
destination. Nana ji, was waiting at the porch with his same old friends who
seemed to have got more rickety than him. Johnny was wagging his tail but not
jumping like before, Cleopatra looked wise & purred at intervals. Nana ji’s
wooden walking stick gave away some dents & colour fading. Nana ji on the
other hand looked timeless & eternal just like the way I first saw him on our
wedding day.
After the initial hellos and pranams, we straight got into the
dining for some evening snacks and Daboo bhaiya’s special masala chai. Now,
Daboo bhaiya has been part of our family even before I got in, so my knowledge
of the family territory and news bytes was directly sourced from him most of
the times. Bahu rani, as he fondly called me in a certain Maharashtrian dialect
gave me the same blush when he had first called me so when we came here just
after our wedding.
After an hour into our conversations, I had to take leave to tend
to the kids. They had to take their bath, have dinner and hit the bed by 9.00
pm. That’s a routine I never break, it helps us be in discipline no matter
where we are. I found them exactly where I knew I would. The old dilapidated
guest house behind the villa where the pets stayed. They were having fun
without the gadgets. Real fun. Live fun. It made me fill with
contentment.
Meeting again for dinner, we spoke about our responsibilities for
the birthday preparation. Bade bhaiya, my hubby’s very close cousin brother was
arriving with his family two days later. And then we will be joined by my
hubby’s sister, who is flying in from London where she is completing her PH.D.
My hubby & his sister lost their parents while they were very young, just
in middle & primary school. Nana’ji and Nani’ji had brought them up here in
Mumbai and co-created the family life which otherwise would have been lost.
Nani’ji left us a decade back, leaving Nana’ji broken and cheerless. My hubby
and his sister had stayed with him for a month, and got Johnny and Cleopatra to
give him good company. Daboo bhaiya who had gone back to his village for good,
was also called back, this time, not as call of duty but, for sharing what’s
left of life together. Since Daboo bhaiya is not married and does not have much
obligations, he readily agreed to our uncertainty with Nana’ji & was more
than happy moving in again.
It’s almost years now since Nani’ji left us and the villa is still
untouched from any externality, may be because of the dust free zone, or Daboo
bhaiya’s effort or because it resonates of two pure and simple souls living in
it.
I had taken the responsibility of cleaning up the guest house
& verandah and inviting the neighbors around the colony, ofcourse all along
with Daboo bhaiya’s intervention. So first thing in the morning, after an
elaborate breakfast of Poha, Puri Channa and Sheera, I started inching out the
guesthouse. The kids were taken for a walk by nana’ji to the park along the sea
creek for them to feel & breathe fresh and play along.
A cupboard full of partly broken crockeries, a 3-legged chair,
half-munched books, loads of clothes, rusted utensils were just the beginning
of the process. I had made up my mind that no keeps and all throws will be my
policy which I soon realized was having a major competition with Daboo Bhaiya
who seemed to have some deep connection with every scrap in there.
With great difficulty, I almost finished clearing up, when I saw
something protruding from behind the rustic window doors. The creaking of
window showed since when it has never been closed, there behind it was a big
black broken umbrella. Half its holding stick had come out and there was one
perfect tear right from top to bottom. Why is this even here, I mugged. Throw
this away bhiaya. It’s of no use any longer. I will work on it, I heard back.
Without any comment I just left to find out what the kids have been up to. It
was almost 1:00 pm and they had not returned. Daboo bhaiya, I called out, what
can we make for lunch? Bahoo rani, Khichdi is the best for today. It’s quick
& we can spend more time on the preparations then. Then let me make it and
you continue cleaning up, I said. I entered the kitchen and stood awestruck. It
was so well organized that my eyes popped out. It didn’t take me much time to
know what’s kept where. An hour later the kids and nana ji were back, craving
for some home-made food pampering. After lunch the kids just wanted to take a
nap and I let them. Evening it started raining. We had planned to go to the
nearby market with the kids. We all put on our raincoats & kids picked
their umbrella to get going. Daboo Bhaiya, chuckled and said, it seems you have
come all prepared. It rains very heavily here so why don’t you also take the
umbrella we found in the guest house? I have mend it and it’s good to take
along. On the porch was sitting the big black half broken umbrella with a dash
of white thread stitch streaking through its frame. No way, I and my hubby said
in synchronization. Startled, by our tone, Daboo bhaiya stood still. Nana ji
uttered, for you it is so useless right? The use and throw generation doesn’t
care for it. Being the reactive kind, I said, Nana ji, it’s not like that, but
may be deep inside I knew that I felt funny carrying an old fashioned umbrella
half broken and stitched up.
For the next entire day too, the big black broken umbrella was
stuck to the porch, unwilling to go elsewhere inside the house or outside. The
kids were happier playing the imagination game with it. The umbrella suddenly
was given the character of a crow, a camping tent, a hot air balloon or
anything else as their story took roots & paths.
Daboo bhaiya, I called out, let’s do one last round of clean up
before bade bhaiya, bhabhi, the kids and choti come in, we won’t have time
tomorrow. Okay, came the reply and we got buzy.
The next three days was just crazy fun and frolic. We had asked
for food delivery for the days so that none of us are spending time cooking but
with each other. It worked out well and the birthday party was very classic
because of many of Nana ji’s silver friends took to have the best time ever in ages.
Passing by the porch one of those days, I found the umbrella gone
and thought to myself, the kids must have broken it again and Daboo bhaiya must
have put it away again behind a window or door.
Holidays make us realize how away we are from the real need of
life. All we want is family, friends, laughter and modest days but somehow we
get pulled into the currents of a fast moving city life.
Being away from the routine, I was actually not able to understand
how I want to plan my day. Finding myself clueless was a surprise for myself.
Our ten days break was winding up faster than I thought, it was
time to leave that evening and so I decided to take a long walk along the creek
to pull in as much fresh air and undisputed time as possible before our time is
up. I put on my rain wear accessories and started walking along
the footpath. It was raining quite heavily but my Quechua raincoat was holding
up for what it’s worth. People were busy starting there last day of the week
and school autos were picking up the kids. Just as I was crossing a by-lane,
something familiar crossed my eyes. I jerked myself to stop, and see again. I
was not mistaken, it was the same dash of white thread stitch streaking through
its frame, with a half broken stick. It gave shelter to three school boys, one
of the bigger boys holding it and two more clubbing together to escape from
getting wet. I could just smile for a while before I started walking again,
deep in my thoughts.
