And So, Uranus

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And so, Uranus, here we are at that golden shresht birthday hubb . I got there a few months earlier, but you knew I’d wait there at the corner till you caught up, didn’t you? I have with me every little gem that we made together, and  I’m sure you do too.  You started out all those years ago as the shorty sitting in the first row in the class photo, while I beamed sheepishly standing three rows behind. Niether of us noticed , when you grew those inches and when I stopped,  what with my drawing a tray with two doodh pedhas and two tumblers of water on the margins of my rough notebook, pokerfaced, while you cracked up in Silvie’s class  and ended up being asked to “get out of the class” for your troubles.

And how clever of you, to improvize, and inflict on Ms Jayashree the little essay in Hindi, about  Deepavali ek shresht hubb hai. Kyonki hum nayi kapde pehente hai.  And further,  hum nayi kapde pehente hai kyonki Deepavali ek shresht hubb hai. Sigh, that must be the first of our gems,  though I can scarcely remember  when we got started.

Soon , though, we had everyone thinking we were twins, and we still do that even now, like when I walk into Arushi, looking at all the magic that you are making, and  the nice lady draped in one of your designer sarees widens her eyes on seeing me, and asks, “your sister?”

Do you remember that time a year ago  at  Jeanne’s the girl giving you a pedicure asked us that question,  and you , put on my poker face, and replied, “we’re twins”?  And we are, too.  Mostly I’m the quiet poet, and you are the charming friend magnet. Everyone wants you for a friend. And many must wonder why you have me for a friend.

But I wonder how we can be anything else.  You and I, we both  know there can be no better best friends than us. We have our gam-gala,  and  Iskanta and Ammallidoddi and a thousand things in-between  to prove that. I have that mad urge to pause  at the french door of that restaurant here in Herndon, and laugh like the grannies of Onida  KY Thunder Series ad, rolling on the ground, thinking about a flag-march in a Jaipur Hotel that never happened.

I am sorry I have killed your love for “aye mere watan you ki logon” by saying  Nehru wept because he wanted her to stop singing. But, as your best friend, your honorary twin, I knew it had to be done.   Call it my revenge for shooting up and growing taller than me, if you like.

Can you think of anyone else you’d rather be with when the little Road Runner surpasses your expectations in her 12th standard results, and calm her down, soothe her,and tell her you’ll be along home immediately, hang up, and  laugh, rather diabolically for a mother? Are  we not the cool mother-aunt duo who do cool things and  the cool things are cool because we do them?

Oh, I’ve loved our trips to Okalipuram, and can still laugh at the day when it rained on us, sitting in the back seat of the beat-up Fiat, while it respectfully bowed as it passed Basha from his window!  And coming upon good old Ammallidoddi on our visit to Kabbalamma.  Very naughty of you though to call out loudly to Raja and tell him, brightly, that I  remembered your dad’s name for him. Kari Dore  is not offended, I know, but still………….!

But it’s been a privilege to watch you grow from the lady who gave motifs and patti and talked  to picky custombers politely, through clenched teeth,   to the designer in demand that you are today. I have tormented you by playing it back to you after they left, but  I simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I haven’t yet actually heard anyone say “Nee daggara Arushi cheera leda?” but I know what I’ll say when I do.

Through school and college, you were the smart,  cool lady I wanted to be. and then I saw how you were with little Jenu, the joy that you brought to being her mother, and the fierce love that drives you defend loyally everyone you hold dear, when you have to. That , I know includes me.  and knowing that, I certainly don’t wish to on the other side, at the receiving end of the fireworks!

So, today, on this milestone huttid hubb, let me say, how grateful I am that we are in each other’s life,  how rich I know myself to be.

Gulab jamuns shall be made today. Tale tale mein gol gol, you know, and  eaten to mark the occasion, the next best thing to being there with you, and falling off the chair, laughing about nothing , and everything!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Laahiri Laahiri Laahiri Valentine

Today, I watched, for the umpteenth time,  a bit of  that adorable movie, Mayabazar,  which has been, ever since I watched it for the first time in a tent ,  when I was about  ten,  the movie that has answers to every question that you would have asked your  grandmother , if only you could. When the  Laahiri Laahiri  Laahiri Lo began playing,  it struck me that this song from 57 years ago was telling me a thing or two about Valentine’s Day.  Pointless and silly as the concept is.

Consider the scene in which  Abhimanyu strolls up the garden path to stand under  Shashireka’s balcony. The  young lady has been  grounded by her mother for  daring to  spurn the gifts sent by her mother-in-law to be, and she is moping, wondering how to get the word out to  Abhimanyu, the love of her life.

An arrow suddenly lands at her feet, and  within minutes, the son of Arjuna builds a “staircase of arrows” for Shashirekha to descend, and they make off for the  riverside, where they are soon ensconced in a gondola, singing  “Laahri laahiri laahiri lo, oho jagame oogenuga..”  A palace guard chances upon them and  gleefully runs to inform Shashirekha’s parents, the imperious Balarama and his domineering wife, Revathi.

However, when they arrive on the scene of crime, they see it is Krishna and Rukmini romancing each other, for the all-knowing Krishna has sensed that the young lovers need some avunclar rescuing, and  drags wife Rukmini to an unscheduled  gondola ride and some mutual serenading.  Walking back, Krishna slyly suggests that the boat ride is a great way for couples to reconnect, and no one is too old for a bit of romance. Well,  the boat was there, and  love was in the air,  and Balarama needed his wife to forget their  rebellious, opinionated daughter for a wee bit,and so they went ahead and  finished the song. And felt all the better for it.  Although they didn’t see their way to relenting  on their daughter who , they believed, was locked up in her room, her tantrums for company.

Silly and pointless, clearly,  love’s little games are not.  Krishna tells us so. He orchestrates the Raas Lila, and every girl comes away thinking Krishna is hers alone. The older Krishna then orchestrates another kind of   love lila- be it uniting Arjuna and Subhadra, or  as in Mayabazar, Abhimanyu and Shashirekha. The artful organizer of happy-endings  has everyone thinking  everything is going according their plan, until the end.

With Gatotkacha’s help, some magic and lots of  good humor,  he has Shashirekha transported to  where Abhimanyu is hiding under Gatotkacha’sprotection, and the affable, adorable  rakshasa son of Bhima  returns , takes on the form of Shashirekha, and terrorizes Lakshmana , son of Duryodhana and the groom intended for Shashirekha.   Once the wedding muhurtham passes, he reveals himself  , and the wedding of Abhimanyu and Shashirekha is presented as fait accompli.

So it all boils down to this. There are those who see Valentine’s Day as evil,  and will foil the plans of those who celebrate the day. There are others who wish to make it special, and some others who  serendipitously,  come upon a gondola ride down the river, and choose to  take it.

I confess that I find Valentine’s Day a nonsensical idea, and  the closest I came to marking the day was last year, when I got the spouse to take me out in the morning sun for a romp in the snow , where a snowman was already melting. It just happened to be  Valentine’s Day , February 14, 2014.  But my heart is in the right place, and I  wish that today,  Krishna has planned happy-endings for everyone who wants it.

Bye. I now need to urgently go back to  Mayabazar.  There is no such thing as too much Mayabazar.