A car carrying memories.

25 years is a lot of time to remember someone.  In these 25 years there was no communication between us. But we did not forget.  In the year 1987 we were living at Hardwar in the BHEL town ship. Mr. Subroto Banerjee and Mrs. Mukta Banerjee were living in front of our quarter with their three children. Banerjee dada was my husband’s senior colleague.  We were very close to them because dada’s funny jokes & talks, and boudi (elder brother’s wife) was a very kind and adorable person. The year 1989 when my younger son was born, boudi stayed with me the whole night at the hospital. She took care of me and my child. In 1990 summer they were transferred to Nagpur and left Hardwar forever. Gradually memories fade away.

Few days ago we visited one of our good friends – Probir and Maloti Ghosh at Nagpur. Ghoshes took us to Banerjee-da’s place. There we met Banerjee family again after a gap of 25 years. Now we all have grown old. Dada and boudi welcome us very warmly.  We talked about good old Hardwar days. Dada asked “How is my DHA?”

Dada had a Fiat car, a Premier Padmini. The colour of that was light brown top and dark brown bottom.  The number plate of the car showed [DHA 650]. My husband did not want a car at that time because we were happy with our two wheeler. His all friends and colleagues had their own car. Meanwhile dada was planning to purchase a new Maruti car so he wanted to dispose his Fiat.

One evening I was standing on the balcony. My children were playing in the park. Suddenly I saw dada was coming. He parked the car in front of my house.  He got down from the car and pulled a rope from behind seat, then he tied the car with the tree which was standing in front of my quarter as if it were a horse or cow. I called dada “What are you doing?”  He said “I am leaving this car with Abhijit, tell him to settle the things.”  I said “He is not at home.” Dada said “Who cares…..”   and walked towards his home.

Now DHA was ours. We explored nearby areas with it. The car was very spacious. Two families could easily be accommodated in it. Most of the Sundays we went for a long drive with our friends. But any Sunday if we stayed at home for any reason that day Abhijit invariably went to Munna (the only car mechanic in BHEL township) with his DHA. 

One winter Sunday morning Subramanium family came to our home and we planned to go to Rishikesh, but DHA 650 was not in a mood to go. So it did not start. Subramanium opened the bonnet and tried to fix it. My son Pakku said “Uncle chorr do, DHA nahi chalegi” (Uncle leave it. It will not move.) Subramanium said “Kaise nahi chalegi? Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, DHA sab chala dunga”.  (How will it not Start? I can start the whole octave Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, DHA, Ni.) But the car did not start and we celebrated picnic in our lawn and made a plan to go to Corbett National Park. The place was 250 Km from Haridwar and decision had been taken that the DHA will go.

On 13^th April 1993, we started from home at 6:30 am with two sleepy kids.  We picked up Subramanium, Ramani and their two sleepy kids.  We reached Nazimabad at 7:30. DHA had a problem. The brake fluid started leaking and suddenly the brake failed. Fortunately Abhijit realised the problem when there was no traffic in front of DHA. So we stopped there and searched a mechanic to fix it.  I and Ramani fed our kids. We started again. At Ramnagar  Abhijit refuelled the car then at 2:30 we reached Dhangarhi  the main entrance of the national park.  We had a booking inside the park.  The name of that place was Dhikaala. From the main gate distance was 50 km.approx. There were no tarmac roads. The road between Dhangarhi and Dhikala was gravelled a long time ago, but had not been repaired ever since. One could see traces of the old tarmac cover on the road with lots of pebbles and rubbles. There were long stretches where no signs of tarmac road was to be seen – only pebbles and raw soil beneath the loose pebbles.  Kids were in very good mood. All of a sudden we got a pungent smell of petrol inside the car. My husband stopped the car. Subramanium and he went out. There was a trail of petrol coming out from the Petrol tank. They tried to block it by stuffing polythene bags, but the leakage could not be stopped and we saw all the petrol flow out on the road. Chinna (Ramani’s younger daughter) said “I have been seeing the trail of petrol for a long time now.” We all asked her, “Why didn’t you tell us!?”  She simply replied, “Why should I?” The road from that point was downhill, so we got back in the car. The hand brake was released, and the car started to roll down the road till and ultimately stopped on a river bed cause way. We came out and were pleasantly surprised. All the fuel flew out, because one small piece of stone hit the plug of the petrol tank.   We had to go another 22km to reach Dhikala.  In another 2 hours the sun would have set. Chinna’s questions increased our stress level.

“If a tiger comes, then are we safe in the car or outside the car.”  She asked. Pakku said “In the car, stupid”. Then Chinna continued “If an elephant comes? Then inside or outside the car.”  Her elder sister Smurta retaliated “Stop asking the question!!” But Chinna continued “If elephant sits on the car then are we safe inside the car or outside the car.”  Finally, one jeep going towards Dhikala stopped by.  They gave us a lift up to the destination. We ladies and children reached on the spot but Abhijit and Subramaniam stayed back with the DHA even after dusk.

So there were lots of memories we had with the DHA. It became our family member. In the year 1997 Abhijit transferred to Varanasi. The DHA came with us and we explored the holy (cow) city. Two years later, Abhijit planned to buy a new car. Now we wanted to sell the old car. Those days a grocer came to our house for monthly supplies. He readily wanted to purchase the car. Initially he agreed to pay 10000Rs. But later on, he gave only Rs. 8000 – Rs. 6000 cash and the remaining Rs. 2000 as groceries. The DHA always lived in our memories since then.

So, coming back to the present from my brief trip to nostalgia, I told dada that the DHA is still in our hearts.  After 25 years, another evening was added to our memories.  My respect to both of you.

School Admissions

Last month, I was returning from Sigra to Durga-kund (locations in Varanasi city) and I got struck in a traffic jam. Why? Because Central Hindu School for boys and girls (CHS) had an entrance exam for admission into the different classes. There was a horrible rush. People from whole Purvanchal (entire eastern U.P.) had come with their kids to seek admission in CHS. This was the scene for admission in government schools. The admission scene in Private schools is scarier. I am now well above this stress. But in the past I had also faced such tension.

In my very primitive memories I recall the scene when my elder brother held my hand tightly and took me to the nearby girls’ school. He did all the formalities and paid the fees which our mother had given to him. Next day I was a part of that school named Kanpur Vidya Mandir, where I spent my next 12 years.

My second experience was my elder son’s admission in Prep level in DPS Haridwar. This was the only Public School having good reputation in 50 km radius. Paku loved motor vehicles and locomotives since the day he was born, and I told him “If you behave like a good boy, you will get admission in this school, and then you can ride the school bus daily.” This was a major incentive for him. So when we reached the school for his admission, he was extremely happy. Other children were not so happy and even a few of them were crying. One of our friends, Mr. Deb was also there for the admission of his son. He noticed our child’s good mood and commented “He simply does not know what is going to happen – his freedom is about to be snatched.” Paku successfully managed to impress the teachers and staff. He got admission easily and spent the next 12 years in that school.

My next experience was with my younger son. We were confident about him because he had learnt alphabets, counting, colours and other things at home from his dada (elder brother) which a child has to answer for admission. On the day of admission, when we were going to school, Piku was very happy because he was going to his dada’s school first time. He was talking too much and asking lots of questions. In the school other children were behaving as our previous experience. Suddenly Piku stopped taking and it looked like as if he was totally unconcerned with the surroundings. A lovely lady took him for is first round interview. I was waiting outside with confidence. Half an hour later, the lady came out and said “He said nothing.” I was shocked. My confidence was shattered. The lady said “Hope that he talks at the next round, otherwise we cannot help.” I asked Piku “Why didn’t you answer them?” He said “They are asking stupid questions.” In the next round with parents Piku did not utter a single word. He was not selected for admission. We were disappointed.

15 days later the school announced for a second round of admissions. We again filled the registration form. This time his father and his Dada tried to convince him to talk in the interview. Piku was enjoying our desperation. The day of interview lady took him for first round. When he came out his father asked him “Did you answer their questions?” He said, “Oh yes! I told them everything. The miss showed me a kite and I told her the colour and even how to fly it.” We didn’t believe him. In second round where he was with us, he again remained silent. There the Head master told us “He did not speak a single word. We have a doubt because we will not take in a challenged child.” We were shocked. He did not get the admission.

Now the new session had started. We had to wait for one year and try again in DPS, or put him in some second grade school. 20 days later, the school again called third time for few students in various classes. This time they had plans to take five more children in prep class. His father again filled the registration form. And this time little fellow showed a kind of kindness towards us and answered to the teachers. He secured admission at last. He spent 5 years there then his father was transferred to Varanasi. Again I faced the admission problem. Paku got admission easily at the new school at Varanasi, but for Piku I had to work hard.

Now both boys have grown up. Paku has his own family. Now I am waiting to see Paku-Neha’s experience for their child’s admission. There are two reasons. First is now a days situation is much more competitive and difficult, and second is that their child shares Piku’s birth date.

A day with Har Har Mahadev

For 10 - 12 days I was vacationing with my husband in ‘Chickluoha’ district Lalitpur U.P. Why? Because he is now posted there, where BHEL is to set up a power plant. All men including my husband are living in single room quarters.  There are no families living here as this is ground zero. There are no markets, schools, hospitals or doctors. The land is rocky and barren. I could only see jungle berries and bamboo bushes. Palash trees gave some colour to the otherwise barren brown terrain. Even the roads were forged by the tires of heavy vehicles.

So last Saturday we went to Khajuraho which is 160 km from this place. The driver told us “Relax sir! The roads are very good once we cross the U.P. border.” That fellow told us about a temple name Jata-Shankar - a shiv temple.  Me and my husband strongly believe in Lord Shiv. So we decided that if got time we would go there but for the time being, we would only be visiting Khajuraho. This is a magnificent place on earth. For artists or lay men, these temples give you a life time experience. That is however a different story.

On the next day, when we were returning from Khajuraho, the driver asked “Sir! Jata-Shankar jayenge kya? (Sir! Do you want to visit Jata Shankar). We said “Yes.” We started from Khajuraho at 10’o clock in the morning and by 11:30 we reached Jata-Shankar.  The road was very good. On the way km after km there was no village. A few small farms were visible from between the rocks. But when we reached near the temple there was a small market. Many private buses and cars were parked there. The temple was up the hill. We purchased some sweets and incense. It cost Rs. 50. My husband pulled out his purse to pay, but the shopkeeper said “Pay me when you come back.”

We started to climb up the stairs. I saw 50 - 55 steps and I thought that could climb it easily. Few steps later, I saw a woman was sitting with fresh flowers. I bought some and asked her “Where do you get such beautiful flowers?” She told me the name of the village which was not to be found in an India’s map. So with full energy I hiked the steps, and from there I saw another 50 - 55 steps. I took a little rest and started again. At the last step I again saw another set of 50 - 52 steps. Now my speed had decreased. We reached at a veranda. On one side of it was a huge kund (water reservoir). Hundreds of men and women were bathing in the kund. There was a natural water fall and families were bathing together. Teenager girls also took a dip in the kund and pronouncing ‘Ohm Namah Shivaai’. We rested there for some time and started to hike another 50 - 55 steps. Here I saw that the hill was made of lava rocks and from the cracks of the rocks, water was flowing in narrow lines and meeting at a place that made a water fall. Some Banyan trees that were growing through the cracks had water dripping from its aerial roots. It appeared as if the water came out from Jata (hairs of shiva). But where was Lord Shiva? I could see another 50-55 steps more. I gave up. I could not climb any more, but my husband encouraged me and I started again. This time my own body weight was too heavy for me to bear. When I arrived at the last step, I saw another 100 steps. Now I could not climb anymore and thus I sat down under a tree. One sadhu was sitting there who pointed towards the remaining flight of steps and said “Bus yehi khatam (that is the end).” We started again. Half the way I sat down (again), my lungs were working very hard. At this point, not a single tree was there and the scorching sun hit us. My husband gave me support (again). With his help I reached at the top (Finally).

On the top there was a mini market. Some sweet shops, cold drink shops and one or two dhabas were there. My husband asked someone “Where is Shiv-ji?” The man replied “Down stairs, near the kund”. I asked Shiva, “What kind of joke is this?” Then the man told us “This is a Radha Krishna temple and a Nandi is living here.”

My husband purchased some sweets to offer. This was a small temple and a beautiful Radha Krishna was there. The Pujari (Temple priest) showed us the bull called Nandi. It had three horns and an eye like impression on its fore head that appeared as if the Nandi had a third eye like Lord Shiv has. We were really amazed to see and experience this uniqueness of nature, and it washed away my fatigue.

I drank a lot of water and came down on the varanda. Here we offered our puja to Lord Shiv. We were the last ones there, and after we came out from the temple it was closed for 4 hours.

Monkey Menace

In Varanasi our house is situated near two famous temples. One is Durga temple, which is described in the age old literature “Puran”. The other temple is Sankat Mochan temple. This is the place where Tulsidas wrote “Ram Charit Manas”.  People believe that Shri Hanuman gave him a ‘darshan’ here (rendezvous with Tulsidas).

Beside history and mythology these temples are ruled by macaque monkeys. I never could understand the  logic behind the fact that if  you feed a monkey, you'll be cleansed of your sins and your bad times will go away. These monkeys are eating puree, halaw, besan ke ladoos made of pure ghee (clarified butter) + chana, gur + fresh seasonal fruits. These well fed monkeys have thus increased their population. They are now an  absolute menace for us. We cannot spread our laundry outside for drying. We cannot keep pickles or papad in the sun light. My garden is destroyed and they've even bitten my children. The list is far too long to even bother writing about.

Yesterday I was coming back from an area called Kabirnagar to Durga temple through a narrow lane (called “gully” in Hindi). The lane is barely four feet wide. One side of the lane is an ill maintained public toilet and other side is a personal property with six and half feet high boundary wall. I was walking alone. I saw a young monkey was peeping under the door of one close toilet. Most of the doors have corroded by 5-6 inches from the bottom. I felt pity for the person in the toilet. Suddenly a big male monkey aggressively jumped up the wall. On the other side, 10-12 monkeys were jumping and screaming on the public toilet roof. I was scared. I increased my pace. 2 shopkeepers rushed towards the monkeys with large bamboos. I reached the market. I was breathing fast. The bread shopkeeper offered a plastic stool. I sat down and felt better.

I remember that once Sanju (one of my best friend’s younger brother Dr. Sanjiv Sharma) told us about his experience with these nutty animals. He said -

“When I was doing my MS from Agra medical college I was living in hostel. Our toilets were separate from our residential area. First day morning I was going to toilet with a tin can filled water because most of the time taps were not working. My friends gave me a bamboo stick. I asked them ‘why’ with curiosity. They said  that it would be needed to save the water. I did not understand the use of a stick in the loo. At that moment I push the toilet door something jumped over me and ran away. My tin can toppled down and spilled.
Now I got the answer. I spent the next two years with them. They would enter the toilet from anywhere.”

I now got up from the stool and started walking on the roads of Varanasi. The roads full of idiotic traffic, pot holes, filthy garbage and stupid monkeys. They are always ready to snatch your shopping bag.


I returned home safely. Thank you o’ lord almighty.

The sixth sense of a man's best friend

The Hindus believe that a dog’s howling is a very bad omen. A dog’s senses are much more active than humans. Their smelling ability is used by security department worldwide. Dogs can visualize the paranormal activity. Whether this is true or false, I don’t know but I feel that something is there.

Last year on 13th September my elder brother passed away. I lost the childhood part from my life. There was a stray dog that was attached to his family. Dada (my elder brother) gave it food regularly and pampered it. When his daughters went somewhere it would follow them like a body guard.  The day when he was hospitalized the dog was howling the whole night. After his death it howled for 10 days. Then it stopped coming their house. No one had any logic for this phenomenon.

In the year 1976 I was an 11th standard student. Beside my parents and big brother I had a pet play mate with me. It was a dog named Munmun. Many times my friends asked me “Why does this masculine dog have a feminine name?”  I told them that I wanted to play with girls only and we laughed. The dog did not mind anything because of a feminine name. We were very good friends.

I had a cousin sister at my age. Her name was Shukla. She was very dear to my mother. She had a brain tumour. Those days the survival rate of the brain operation was just 0.05%. My uncle decided that without operation death was certain, so he would take that 0.05% chance. Beside that, the girl’s health was deteriorating day by day. In the month of March Uncle took her to Vellore hospital. This is still situated in South India. For us, March meant exam season. Via land line phone he told us, “Tomorrow morning doctors will do the operation for the tumour.” Next day I and dada went to school. Father went to office but my mother sat down in Puja room (worship place) in front of god and goddess. When I returned home she was still in the Puja room.

At 10’o clock in the night, suddenly Munmun started howling.  My mother shouted at me “Mini! Chup kora oke!!!” (Mini! Make the dog shut up!!!.) and prayed to god “May Shukla be alright.” I grabbed Munmun and settled on my bed. Few moments later, he went to the courtyard and howled. We scolded it but all in vain.

Every day my father called my uncle over the hospital’s telephone and asked about Shukla’s health. She was in coma. Doctors took care her nicely. Uncle said “I hope she will be all right”.

The howling continued for eleven days. We observed that exactly at 10‘o clock it started misbehaving and we scolded it. On the eleventh day it did not howl. My mother said “May we get a good news tomorrow.” Same night at 12:30 Munmun was restless and scratching me. I said Munmun please let me sleep. I grabbed it in my bed. But it escaped an started howling and restlessly walking in and around the courtyard . I tried to grab it, but it react violently. Dada tried to sooth it but it kept reacting violently. We left it there and came back to our bed . It stopped howling but stayed in courtyard. I fell asleep. At 3:30 am, I woke up. My mother was screaming “Shukla... Shukla! Stop… Shukla...” She was breathing fast. This time Munmun was growling aggressively. It was moving around my mother’s bed. I served some water to mother. My father patted her. She said, “Bad dream...  may god bless us all.” Munmun kept behaving in a weird manner. We could not sleep that night.

Next morning Uncle called and gave us the massage “Last night, at 12:30 am the doctor declared her dead.”

My Birthday

26/11 is my birthday. It is a very painful day for a Mumbaiker (someone living in Mumbai). All kind of abstract nouns can express love, lust, wisdom, fear….etc, but the pain has no expression.

In year 1985 I was living in Hardwar. Second week of September my 3 year old son, Pakku had cough and cold. His father went to Germany for an official tour. My in laws were staying with me. My mother in law tried to sooth him with home remedy.  He had no fever so we had nothing to panic. But as time passed he became restless. Within two days, the intensity of the cough increased. Next morning I went to nearby clinic. The doctor said that this was an allergy, and gave anti-allergy syrup. It was a temporary relief. But as the night fell, he was becoming more and more restless and coughing continuously. Gradually he became inactive. He hung his head on my shoulder and stuck to me. By then my in laws were also worried. We were feeling helpless. It was 9:30. That day was Saturday. Entire neighbourhood went to the club as they had a Saturday program. It was a cloudy night. Pakku was breathing very slowly.

10 O’clock I saw Mrs. Doctor Majetia enter the building. She was living at ground floor.  I wrapped my son in a small blanket and rushed to her. She was just entering in her flat. She stopped and asked me “what happened?” I told her the whole thing.  She put her hand on his back and said intensely “you must take him immediately to hospital he is serious.”  Hospital! How I will take him there? What was wrong with my child? Hospital was two Km. far from my house.

It was raining. My father in law said, “Wrap him in a rain coat; we will walk.” I did the same. When we came out of the building we saw that the people were returning from club. A motorcycle’s headlight hit us. The motorcycle crossed us and stopped. “Meenu!”  It was Ranjana’s voice.  Dube bhaisab was returning with his family. They stopped and asked us “In this weather where are you going?” .I could say just two words - Help Me.

Dube bhaisab left Ranjana and Sona (their son) at home and took me and Pakku to the hospital.  He stopped his bike near emergency in the hospital. He parked his bike and snatched pakku from my arms and throughout the rain coat and went into the medical room. Male attendant did not allow me. I was watching from outside through glass panel. Dube bhaisab, dr. dutta, a nurse and a paramedic were standing surround the table. I could not see my child. I was waiting in half wet clothes. A kind of unknown fear grabbed me. It was raining and the night was cold.  15 minutes later, bhaisab and Dr. Dutta came out and said he was out of danger.  Bhaisab said, “Abhijit ka beta hai use kuch nahi hone dunga.” (I will not allow anything to happen to him because he is Abhijit’s son). They went in the room and I stayed outside. Night passed and dawn came Dr. Dutta came out and said, “You may go inside now.”   

In the room bhaisab was sitting on a stool beside the bed and kept his head on the bed with eyes closed.  I put my hand on pakku’s chest. He was breathing normal and his heart beat was little fast. I.V. Tube was settled in his arm. He was sleeping. I kneel down beside the bed and joined my hands to say “Thank You God”. My eyes were closed. Someone pat my head. That was Mrs. Dr. Majetia. I stood up. She said “Pakku’s bronchia were choked due to mucus. He is now out of danger. You have to stay in the hospital for a few days. Mucus will be cultured only then we start antibiotics.” Bhaisab raised his head.

He did everything he could and he and his wife took care of my in laws. We spent 15 years together in Hardwar. Lots of merry time we spend together. 26th April 1996 bhiaisab expired due to cancer. But Ranjana never failed to give me good wishes on my birthday because 26/11 is bhaisab’s birthday. She said “Happy birthday Meenu. Have a happy and long life…” every time I feel the pain in her voice.

Witness of a tragedy

On the 7^th March 2006 in the city of Varanasi - the day was a normal day, as any other day would have been. It was spring. Cold days had passed and warmer days were yet to come.

I spent my day doing normal routine work. At 5 o’clock in the evening I went to Lanka market. The sun was about to set. The distance between my home and Lanka market is hardly 1 kilometre. In the year 2006 I used to pay a rickshaw puller Rs 10 only for that distance. Sankat Mochan temple is situated on the way to Lanka. Normally rickshaw pullers took Rs. 5 from my home.

In the Lanka market I purchased a lot of green vegetables and few house hold things. I hired a rickshaw for going back to home. A thought came to my mind that according to the Hindu calendar the day was very auspicious. Lots of marriages were performed in the city. I should go to the temple. So I asked the rickshaw puller “Take me to Sankat Mochan”. He turned the rickshaw towards the temple. 

I got down from the rickshaw and gave him a Rs 5 coin. I started to enter the temple gate. During those days, there was no security checking. The rickshaw puller called me “Didi. Give me two rupee more.” I was irritated and said “No! For this distant Rs 5 is enough. “Then an argument started between us. I was not going to give him Rs 2 more but he demanded. Few minutes had passed. He continued “You people gave thousands of rupee to the temple but like us poor labourer you cannot spend 2 rupee.”  Finally I gave him 2 rupee in a very irritated manner and said “One should not be greedy”.

I turned around and stepped in the main gate of the temple. Suddenly a boom sound hit me. The sound was very strong that hit my heart and mind. “What’s that??” I was spell bound. For about 2 to 3 minute there was absolute silence. Few minutes later some men and women were running outside the temple. They were screaming “Bhagoo……Bhagoo…..” that moment I didn’t realized what had happened to me. I could not move a step. Then an injured girl came out of the temple. Her clothes were soaked in blood. One after the other, people came out in bad shape. There were four men came out holding a rag and shouting “hato…hato” (clear the path). Under the rag the trail of blood dropped on the floor. Suddenly a women shook my shoulder in a histrionically and asked “Mera beta kahan hai” (where is my son) .I regained my consciousness.  Then I started running towards my home. Police vehicles were heading towards the temple. The shop - keepers pulled down their shutters. 

It took a good amount of time to overcome this experience. Later I thought that if I was not arguing with the rickshaw puller then I would have been on the spot where the bomb blast occurred…

Why did Sankat Mochan save my life?  

Posters abound

कैडबरी की मिठास जो मुह मैं घुल जाए 
कोला की ठंडक जो दिल मैं उतर आए 
सर्फ की धुलाई से सारे दाग धुल जाए 
फेयर एंड लवली  से रूप निखर आए 
बाटा के जूते और टाटा की कार 
चारो तरफ है पोस्टरों की भरमार 
इस साबुन से निखार, आये जवानी पर बहार 
एक गोली से भागे सर्दी, सरदर्द और बुखार 
एक ताज़गी भरी चाय से बन जाए परिवार 
एक कप कॉफ़ी से मिल जाए बिछड़े यार 
टीवी पर चलता रहता है दिन भर 
आपकी त्वचा आपके बाल 
हर प्रोडक्ट मैं होता है 
खाद्य पदार्थो का इस्तेमाल 
सड़क पर फिल्मो के पोस्टर 
देश का हाल बताते हैं 
जिस्म, जब तक है जान, Oh! My God
Dirty Picture, हेरोइन दिखाते है 
इस पर भी जी न भरे आपका सरकार 
नेट पर आए, यहाँ भी पोस्टरों का भरमार 

Small Talk Ladies

Two ladies are talking on the telephone. Both the ladies are aged between 54-55.  Before I write down the conversation I will write a little bit about them. These ladies have asked me not to mention their name, so I am not writing their names here.

Lady A is a very intelligent and educated lady with a good sense of humor. She is the wife of an executive and mother of two successful children.

Lady B is of average intelligence and not very educated, with no sense of humor. Of course she has a pure heart. She is the wife of an executive (now retired) and mother of two successful children.

B - Namaste (Hello). Am I disturbing you?
A - Namaste (Hello). No no ! How are you?
B - (In low mood voice) fine….
A - Your voice sounds low? I hope your health is ok.
B - Health is not perfectly ok, but I am fine.
A - What kind of problem is it?  Nothing serious I hope?
B - Oh! No no no ! Yesterday, I had a bad headache.
A - I hope today you are fine
B - Yes yes. Only a bit of backache left. Just leave it there. I called you to tell you something.
A - From where are you calling?
B - I am calling you from Ghaziabad.
A - Oh! So you must be at your daughter’s home.
B - Oh no! He has purchased a flat here.
A - Very good!
B - Nothing is good. The houses are like match boxes. He never listened to me. At this age how will we adjust to a new place? Father and daughter have decide to live here. For the past 30-33 years he never listened to me .What should I expect now?
A - What did you do the house in Lucknow?
B - (sabki najar lag gai) People evil eyed that house. We have now finally sold it.
A - Ok! Now congratulations for your new house. Hope Bhaisahab (B’s husband) is alright.
B - Yes he is alright. Nothing will happen to him .
A - At least in this age you have a partner with you. This is a great thing.
B - It doesn’t  matter if he is here or not. For the past 32-34 years he did not talk to me. What should I expect now?
A - What is he doing after his retirement? Is he doing any job?
B - No. He just sits in front of the T.V.for the whole day.
A - So he is killing his time by watching T.V.
B - I don’t know. May be watching or may be sleeping.
A - Don’t say  things like that. After all he cares you a lot.
B - May be. Yesterday he came in the kitchen and sang a song - Choli ke piche kya hai (a Hindi movie song. It means what is behind the blouse.) I got angry. I scolded him that he should take care of your own lungii (a long cloth men wrap around their loins). You are not at an age to see behind the blouse. Since then, he is angry with me. Now look I said nothing wrong.
A - When will you visit to Varanasi?
B - I don’t know. Let me talk about the reason I called you.
A - Oh yes ! Tell me please.
B - We purchased a house in Ghaziabad. We will be happy if you pay us a visit here.
A - Oh sure! Whenever I visit Delhi next, I will visit your place.
B - Please convey this to Meenu also.
A - Sure.

And the Conversation  went on…

"Thank you", said the cat

In the 2nd week of august I was in Haridwar BHEL township. This is the place from where I started my married life and spent 17 years. During that time I made some great friends. So whenever I or someone from my family visited Haridwar, we stayed with our friends at their place, instead of a guest house. This time we had come to attend Mr. and Mrs. Deb’s son’s marriage. We stayed with Roy’s home. At this age, our children have left home to pursue their destiny, and we live alone with their memories.

At the noon near about 11 am. Abhijit and Roy Dada were not at home. I and Kabli(Mrs. Roy) was chating in her kitchen and she was cooking lunch.  Suddenly something drew my attention. I peeped out from the kitchen window. There was a 3 and1/2 feet long moniter lizard . It was walking into the courtyard. ”How did it come inside?” I asked. She said “May be it crawled under theback gate.”  I took some photographs.

A long time ago, I went there on a casual visit, and that time lots of cats were roaming in her courtyard. I asked Kabli “Where have all the cats gone?” “They all are my younger daughter’s pet. Five years ago when she left for college hostel, they came for a few days, but gradually they stop coming. Now where they are I don’t know.” I recalled that one of the cats was one eyed because when it was a kitten it was living in Dr. Dutta’s flat, and a tom cat hurt it very badly. It would have died of infection and bleeding. But the Dutta’s are a very animal lover family. Dr. Dutta and her family cared for it and it survived . It healed but it lost one eye and became a full size cat. So she named her KAANI (a hindi word, which means "one eyed").
When Dr. Dutta had left their quarter and moved to their own house, she gave Kaani to Bidisha (Kabli’s daughter). Kaani never lived with the Roys but it was very attached with Bidisha. Once I had asked her “How do you maintain your ‘0’ figure.” She smiled but her mother said “Just because of Kaani .She gives her 3/4th  of her food to it.”

That afternoon Kabli narrated a rather amusing incident about Kaani. It is quoted below

“One evening there was a get together in my home and as you know that I am very fond of cooking so with other dishes I prepared three types of fish. When the party was over I gave the left over as well as the bones to Kaani. The time was late night and I was tired. We shut the doors, turned off the lights and went to bed. Next morning Kaani was desperately scratching the back door. When we opened the door it rushed to come in. Its mouth was full of blood and saliva. I simply did not know what to do. Kaani was seeking my help. My husband grabbed it with a towel and with very difficulty we came to know that a big piece of fish bone was stuck deep into its teeth gums. Bidisha called a doctor. Dr. Dutta came immediately. With a lot of drama we manage to pull out the bone. Bidisha picked it , hugged it, and tried to sooth it.
Two days later, again it started scratching the back door. When I opened the door, Kaani came in and started searching Bidisha. She was sleeping. Kaani waited patiently for her to wake up. When she woke up, Kaani put down a dead squirrel in front of the girl then politely left out. Bidisha was confused “What the hell am I supposed to do with this dead rodent?”

It took some time for us to realize that this dead animal was a precious thing for Kaani. Kaani gave it to her as a way of saying thank you.”

Tied up nostalgia

On the 4th of July I was in Varanasi to attended one of my friend’s daughter’s marriage.  After a good rainfall on the 3^rd of July,  the 4^th was a sunny day. That day was very a sweltering hot day.  In the afternoon there was a small ceremony and all of us ladies were gathered at her home. As you may know, Ladies who attend marriages of kids who would be my son’s age, become nostalgic. May ladies started chatting about their own marriages. What she wore? How she dealt with her nervousness? What kind of comments did she face... etc.  Suddenly Joi, the younger sister of the bride, came to us and said, “Please! Can someone tie my hairs into pig tails?”   We Indian girls and women tend to tie our hairs as one or two pig tails. This is an age old way to keep our hairs neat and tidy. But now, girls commonly have their hairs dressed in various fashion.  Someone said, “Why do you want to tie your hairs? Because I know you spent a lot of money and time for it.” Another lady said, “Your untied and spread hairs are looking good.”  Still she said with some irritation, “All is true. But the weather… The weather is extremely humid and sultry, so I can’t manage it anymore.”

I volunteered and said “Come dear I will tie your hairs.”  One lady questioned me “Do you know how to make the pig tail (choty).”  I replied “Yes I do.”  Then I took a brush and start brushing. As I was brushing Joi’s hairs I felt nostalgic.

I was around 8 or 9 years old. In my school untied hairs were strictly not allowed. So every morning my mother used to tie my hairs neatly into two pigtails. But one day she fell ill. The Doctor came and gave us his report, “Viral fever. She needs medicine and proper rest. It will take some time for her to recover”. She was too weak to get up from her bed. My father worked hard to manage home and office. Dada (my elder brother) got ready for school by himself; but I was totally dependent on my mother, mostly for having my hairs tied up. Even though it wasn’t perfect, but somehow my father got me ready for school. On the first day I went to school with untied hairs and as per my school rules, I got my punishment for it. After I came back home, I was waiting for my father to return from work. When he returned, I burst into tears. Father calmed me down and asked me to come with him.  He took me to the saloon and said to saloonkeeper, “Abdul! Cut her hairs short.” The man picked me up and put me in a chair . Then he cut my shoulder length hairs in to boy cut. I felt happy that I need not worry about tying up my hair in the morning rush.

At school my friends and class mates giggled and laughed.  My teachers looked at me in weird way. I felt hurt and pathetic. After I returned home, I again waited for my father to return from work. When he returned, I again burst into tears. The next morning, my father covered my head with a scarf and as the day passed by, the girls giggled and laughed at me.  That day my class teacher asked me “Is there something wrong?  Why do you wear a scarf in such a hot day?” I was depressed. I could not say anything. Some girl in the class said “Miss! She has lice in her hairs so she applied medicine.” I could only shout.”NO!”. But it would have been useless. Nobody would understand that my mother was ill and my father did not know how to tie hairs.

On my way back home, one of my close friend walked back home with me. She put her hand on my shoulder in friendly manner and said, “You know! If you have some mental problem then my mother can help you. She knows of a very famous Ojha! Tell me honestly if you have any problem…

I said, “Joi! Here is your pig tail.”

She said “Thank You Mini aunty.”