My Diwali memories

My Diwali memories

Anjor, you always say to me that we should do something special on Diwali or Christmas to make family memories. Let me let you today that memories cannot be made, they are formed out of nothing and everything. Now that the Diwali is drawing closer, I am more broken thinking about my mom. This is my first Diwali without her and it brings back all the memories from my childhood, of all the Diwalis I spent with my parents. After marriage I got carried away by my new family, my husband, then you were born and I had somehow forgotten all those Diwalis. But now I distinctly remember them.

One such Diwali was in Jawaharnagar, G type quarter numbered 51/3. It was my dad's factory quarters. It was our home. Sandeep mama was 3 years old and I was 5. I remember getting up early to be done with our showers before the sunrise, or we might end up in hell as the Narakasur demon would then take us there. We didn't know what the death was, what the heaven and hell was but we believed that it was a day when we have to be up early. Our mom would make the thali ready with the diya, akshata (turmeric-kunku mixed rice), a gold ring supari and turmeric and vermilion or kunku. Our aai would do the aarti and baba would be heating up the water in the backyard over a makeshift stow made by placing three bricks each on the three sides of a square and burning natural wood and coal as fuel. The temperatures would be between 5 to 15 degree celsius and the warm water bath would feel good. Aai would massage us with the coconut oil before we would take our Diwali bath when we were supposed to apply ubtan (powder of so many nice herbs including sandalwood, neem, turmeric etc). I also remember using Moti soap, which had rose or sandalwood fragrances, especially only during Diwali. This Moti soap is so special to me that if you remember even now I buy it during Diwali. It brings back those memories.

We would get 3 pairs of new clothes on Diwali. I do not remember my parents buying much of new clothes for themselves, but we were pampered. Sandeep and Sameer mamas would always have similar shirts and pants. I particularly remember the terricot material shirt which had small geometrical design in red/orange colours. I remember both my brothers as very small. How I wish we had time travel and could revisit those days, when we had no worries of the world and could fight and be petty with each other and complain about all that to our parents. Teasing and fighting with the siblings and then running away from each other and hugging mom around her knees. I still can feel the touch of her saree, smell the food she cooked.

Yes the food would be another reason for our excitement, because for the next couple weeks our everyday breakfast would be ladoo, chivda, chakli, shankarpali, anaarse and karanjis. In those days these sweet and snack items were not commonly available year round and were made only during Diwali.Our mom was the best cook, so much that we would dread eating faral at any other house than ours. I don't remember being of much help to her during those days. She would alone make around 10 lbs of chaklis and I could not even stand the frying in the kitchen even when I was 15. I would just help in frying for initial half an hour or so and then she would do it all alone. She used to make the best anarsaas but I would like to eat the raw dough and she would keep some aside for me always.

Another Diwali in Jabalpur, I remember she got stitched a brown coloured salwar kameez for me and I hated it. I used to love soft and light colours and my favorite was yellow. She thought brown would look good on me and I think it did too, but my ego didn't want to admit it. When we are close we always do things to please each other but also don't accept it. I don't remember much hugging and kissing her as I grew big. I was the eldest and think I grew big too soon..... I remember Aai saying that once. I did not understand it then but now I think it was her love or her regret for not having much time to pamper her first born.

And now as we are heading towards the Diwali week I am dreading to face it. From October 31st, I want the Calendar to jump directly to November 6th this year. It doesn't happen that way right? I will have to go through the Diwali this year and remember those memories of bathing before dawn, mom doing our aarti and massaging us with that smile on her face, the water being heated in the backyard, us lighting those small earthern lamps at our doorstep, my mom making the best Rangoli in the street (she was an artist and had won so many prizes for her Rangoli), we then eating the Faral fast to be able to go out and burn some of those fire crackers and have fun with our friends.

All these and many more memories are so fresh in my mind now that I can clearly see them in spite of the tears flooding my eyes.

Truth

What is truth ? What is honesty? Isn't it all futile? We are so surrounded by bigger lies that are packaged as honest truth, that once in a blue moon when a truth comes along we label it as the biggest lie ever. The truth is devastating, horrible and we cannot believe it. In the civilized world we have learned to kill a soul little by little everyday. In the bid be the fittest to survive we try every illegal and untrue ways to achieve success and try to show it off as our most sincere and honest efforts. It is done so often in everyday life that every one believes in it. Doping by athletes is not a new issue. From Roger Clemens to Lance Armstrong, we have loved them all and then hated them too. However how many of us actually would not do the same if we were in their shoes?
As  Lincoln said, " "Nearly all men can withstand adversity; if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Every one wants to paint a larger than life picture of their own. Some take help of shortcuts and dishonest means to achieve that image and then try to convince everyone including themselves that the success is indeed a result of honest and hard work.
Even in education students seem to be following path of their elder sibling or a friend in selecting the major because they are guaranteed a non-stop flow of exams and written assignments that the professors have been giving year after year. Professors do not see anything wrong in it as they themselves claim to have done the same thing. The quotes about morality and characterization are not  used even on facebook. Even God does not punish those who use illegal and wrong means to achieve success. The honest and true people either take to crime or commit a suicide (nurse in royal scandal is the most recent one) or become philosophers and say they sleep well at night as they haven't hurt anyone. It hurts when you live honestly and truthfully and you are brandished a lair and asked to prove your truth. The lies are never required to be proved because there's a big party of lairs and they support each other so well that the whole world believes in them.

My little World of Playing Cards

 Somebody posted this photo of the new cards, without the picture cards. I remembered that as a child I used to imagine that those king, queen, and jack were real. I loved them in an obvious girly sequence of Hearts, Diamond, Spade and Club. I would wonder, how must they get out of their margins to talk with each other. Was there a world for them, after we were done playing?

On those summer afternoon,s were they waiting for us, to finish our lunches and take them out? Oh how they must've been waiting to catch the cold breeze, coming from the khus ki tatti (Curtains made of vetiver roots) and feel relieved, in that hot Nagpur summer. Inside the box of pack of cards, did they ever feel stuffy? I would also wonder, how they walked, as they had heads on both ends; and I would think they were so lucky that they can eat their favourite food twice because of two mouths.

Beyond the square margin, was there a different kingdom unreachable for us humans, but lived only by the cards? Did the jack (known as ghulam or slave), really serve his masters and the queen? Did the king go hunting and the queen enjoy her luxurious baths or spend time singing and dancing around a castle, we never saw? Did the ghulam go to the market to buy everything the king and the queens wanted? Was the queen of hearts, friends with any other queens or was she proud to be most favourite amongst the card players? What role did the Ace play in their lives?

Oh those endless questions and the endless possibilities of answers. I don't know who invented them; and so I googled my question, and discovered that they were invented in the ancient China in the 9th century. Yes indeed it has to be Chinese, which is still written in picture alphabets; and probably the imagination that is nurtured through such alphabets and words, makes chinese people so intelligent.

Therefore not only should we retain those three main character pictures, we have known all our life, but if possible add more pictures for other number cards as well. It does stimulate the right hemisphere of creativity and imagination, while using logic from the left one. Therefore playing cards must be mandatory for elementary school children and entire human race confused by the dilemma created by digital world.

I am ready for my next game, are you?

Angels

We read about them and listen endless stories from our grandma and grandpa about 'em. We try to model our lives similar to them. The angels, the heroes, the good souls. We see ourselves as the messiah. We are going to be somebody big with great healing power or touch and we can wipe away the tears of all humanity.

As we grow, we face reality right from our own house to school. The sibling rivalry does not end with time but increases. Our classmates are mean and selfish. Some cheat and still manage to be in good books of the teacher. For the job interview, someone with less merit gets past us and we are left to face the barbaric and unjust world. We could not even get the admission in our favorite field and college in spite of having the deserving grade, deserving attitude to help the mankind. The shrewd girl at interview who had hatred for poor patients is proud student of the prestigious college.

We get a job and try to make best of it. We are in no competition with the neighbor and are very satisfied with the life. We have healthy and happy family. Our spouse is an example of good Samaritan and children well behaved. We never wish ill to anyone in the world. We are appalled by the way medical professionals sometimes conduct themselves, hand in glove with the pharmaceuticals. You ask God why did he not give you the privilege of being a doctor and helping the needy. God gave you empathy but medical knowledge to those who kept mum during the Hippocratic oath.

And then someone tells us about the doctor who offered to make a home visit because the patient was weak. He comes at 2 pm after seeing all the patients at his clinic and is going to see another patient who's bedridden and then the doctor heads home for lunch. This doctor and his doctor wife prepare lunch for a pregnant lady doctor who works for them. Then you thank God. He did make a person who shares your empathy and is doing a job to make mankind proud of him. He is the angel you always aspired to be. May God give him  a long, healthy and happy life. May God make more such humans. This is truly "Being Human."

The Wedding

The cozy and lovely and full on entertaining wedding where everyone enjoyed and missed the guy who lived his life kingsize. He always lived his life on his own terms. He was the most dashing and handsome guy in our family even at the age 64 and trotted around the globe on his artificial foot. Tall, dark, and Handsome with those big mustaches he wore so proudly on his face. One of my professors had same height, skin color, and facial features minus the mustache....and I was so proud to feel that my grandpa was the handsomest.

Right from the time when my granny went to the groom's house and talked about planning this wedding a couple of months ago... she missed him. She had to do the mountainous task herself without him beside her. They had a rocking life right from their courting time until his death. Granny talked less but was always a woman with strong will power. She wanted him to follow a healthy lifestyle but he refused. He wanted to challenge Diabetes by eating sugar coated biscuits; Entire packet at a time! He lived each moment of his to its fullest.

The groom's family consisted of plain, simple and nice people. Very decent family and very loving too. The groom was a live example of  Sanskrit shloka, "Vidya Vinayen Shobhatey." So learned and yet so humble. All of us flocking around the new couple and teasing them and having a typical wedding fun...... wow! BUT we missed my grandpa. The Kanyadaan ceremony where the dad gives away the bride was performed by my granny and I am sure that standing beside her and cupping her hands in his own was my grandpa's soul.... doing his duty. Standing by the side of the women who was the love of his life and he had promised to be with her always. His soul must be so happy and elated and yet satisfied at seeing his daughter settle down in matrimony with such a deserving guy.

The reception party after the wedding literally rocked. The enthusiasm of the bride and her happiness was so contagious that the entire party guests kept on dancing till the very end and the DJ refused to stop playing songs. Starting with the internet craze Kolaveridi to tali ho to angrezi mein kehtey hain to aaj rapat jaye to Ra.One songs and the Rahat Fateh Ali mix ....everything was intoxicating. The sweetest moment was when the older son-in-law dragged my granny to the dance floor. He hugged her and danced with her and once again everyone missed my grnadpa whose soul was probably standing beside her. I could almost see Aajoba dancing and drinking the wine intoxicated with happiness.

With a heavy heart we all departed, hugged and kissed each other, and took a small piece of Aajoba's memories that everyone had created in their mind blogs, back to our lives. Real kingsize wedding was a tribute to the king of a man called Aajoba. Vishram mama, Vishram Aajoba, Vishram Kaka various relation to us all but same guy with golden heart.