Birthday comes once a year. The young boy Mothu, living with his mother, grandfather and grandmother would start waiting for his next birth day as soon as the present one was over. He remembers his last birthday, when a week before the day an old priest (Bhai ji) arrived from the village, the room on the ground floor, actually the only livable room on the ground floor was set up for some occasion it seems. Mothus mother dusted the room, moved out the four chairs and the cot to the big aangan ( a space for 'nothings' and passage to the living quarters' )at the back of the house and arranged in a corner there into a pile. The cow, Biro was tethered in another corner. A flight of stairs lead to the first floor. The aangan was the largest space at the back of the house. It also had a big mezzanine running along two sides accessible by a make shift bamboo steps. There were 15 steps to the first floor, the living quarters of the family. The stairs led to an open kitchen. Mothu generally spent his time in the room left of the kitchen, where his mother and grandmother were having their cots or palangs. The other room was grandpa's room with his palang, a small table and an account book. Grandpa was always at this table, lit by a small electric lamp, before going to bed. In his very steady hand, he could pen the complete months household accounts in a single page and move on to the next in the following month. At the end of the month he would declare to all, the balance sheet of the month. The profit (savings) or loss generally varied between Rs. 10 to 30. Most of the year he was able to balance his books in green. The moment there was over expenditure, the next month will find the drastic cut in all the sundry expenses.
Mothu loved to go to the roof of the house. It had a small covering in the corner of the roof. He would watch the birds flying around above his head while he lay on the bed in the morning. He would join the birds - the small black sparrows - in their flight and fly with them in circles over and over again. The noises from the kitchen, grandpa making curry paste, grandma churning the yoghurt for the butter and mother fetching water from the community tap in the street and pouring into the storage tank, a recess in the kitchen wall, gave Mothu a complete activity picture down stairs. Suddenly from this background he will hear – Mothuuuuu, come down, time for the school. He wanted to savor the days when he was not to leave his birds and the sky, get out of the bed for going to school! But he could not remember the days when he was young enough and was not enrolled in the school. It seems like all good times this period also lasted for a short while in Mothu's life and he was not able to calendar it precisely. But now any good thing he remembers very well and tries to experience the same by keeping the events stored in his imagination. Though sometimes he cheated, as he found that what he was remembering actually got changed for the better in two or three repeat runs in his memory. May be his mind like a computer, was enhancing and rearranging the contents of his memory, for a better effect.
He ran down the stairs straight to the ground floor room and found a big cotton carpet and the old man from the village having his break fast of a big tumbler of milk, paranthas and freshly churned butter. Mothu, said Sat Sri Akal to everybody and was immediately pushed by his mother to the bathing place, a corner near the water outlet in grandpa's room, quickly scrubbed, dried up and put on fresh clothes. In the winter of Feb. in north of India, this was not his idea of starting birthday festivities. His grandpa and Bhaiji were ready. All three walked through the streets of the city for a mile and reached Mr. Prem Singh's house. Prem Singh was a relative who was seen only on occasions like this, when we needed to carry the holy book from his house to our place, for open paath or readings. These were performed by Bhai ji over one week culminating into singing of hymns and many guests attending that occasion. Grandpa placed the book over his head and Mothu was asked to sprinkle water in front till all three reached home. In the middle of the room the book was placed on a special stand, looking more like a child's sleeping place with all the small cushions and scarves. Bhai ji started chanting shabad and sat down to start the open paath to continue till Mothu's birthday.
It was a new experience for Mothu, whole day Bhai ji was sitting and reading incomprehensibly the words from the big book. Mothu will peep into the paath room and hear a sound as though many bees were singing and dancing. He was strictly told to pay his obedience first by touching his forehead to the ground, in front of the book. There was a white cloth flowing out in front, from the covers of the open book. There were flowers put there and a small tray on the ground on the while sheet to put in the offerings of money. On the right on a small side table, a brass vessel had some sweets as prasad. After bowing the head in front of the book and a clockwise round around the holy book, everyone got a little prasad. Mothu observed that as soon as an elderly visitor from the neighborhood came, Bhai ji will start doing the paath in a very clear and loud voice. These people will always put in the plate of offerings few coins while bowing their head in front of the holy book. Generally there will be a sizeable crowd of five to ten people, mostly women in the afternoon for an hr or so. Women had time at hand to spare at those hrs and had this function at Mothu's place to utilize the time and feel good.
A day before Mothu’s birthday, the guests from neighboring villages and also from the far neighbor hood in the town stated arriving. Arrangements were being made for the guests to stay. All the palangs were carried to the roof top. The wall to wall mattresses gave the look of two big palangs to these two rooms, where dozens of people could sleep. Grandpa’s aunt also arrived from the village, and nephew came from another village with his son. There were guests from grandma's side; sister's son arrived with a potli of hot gur, favorite of Mothu's mother. Mithai maker came from the bazaar with his two assistants and started digging the ground for oven in the neighbor’s house on the small vacant space where Mothu and other children used to play every evening. This evening, all his friends were busy being part of the birthday preparations and did not miss their playing space usurped by the halwai his assistants and cooking utensils. Mothu had never seen her mother being so busy in organizing and cooking food for so many guests. Halwai was preparing only for the lunch the next day. As soon as it was dark, Mothu was insisting to have dinner saying that he is feeling asleep. Mother understood that he needs an excuse to play on the big bed organized on the floor for guests to sleep. Once he got the permission he managed to sneak in his friend on the "bed" and started rolling from one end to another. The excitement brought out strange noises and sounds from their throats. And soon the house hold felt disturbed by the cries of these beasts they were asked to close the eyes and sleep. A sure thrashing was spared for the sake of birthday boy having fun.
Next morning, after a thorough bath and scrub and set new of clothes on, the family priest arrived. And as soon as she saw him under the morning sun falling from the window, immediately commanded evil spirits to go away and let the best be there from now on wards for this young boy. She was amply rewarded by Mothu's grand ma. All the guests and Mohu's family of four assembled in the paath room below. Mothu sat in his mother’s lap and was given gifts, mainly the currency notes of Rs. 2 or 1. Mothu's Rakhi sister from the street was also sitting besides them. A group of two Bhai ji's came with Mr. Pritam Singh and his son and after paying their respects sat on the left side of the holy book. Mothu was watching that they had brought big bundles wrapped in cloth with them. First a harmonium came out, then a pair of drums. Immediately hymns singing began and for the next one hr, Mothu found almost everybody except his friends with closed eyes listening to the songs. Already a big vessel of piping hot halwa - kadah Prasad - covered under white muslin was resting on the table. Its aroma was disturbing the kids and many of them were salivating and trying to keep their urge to splurge under control. Kirtan lasted an hr. Bhai ji, Mothu knew, was already on the last page of the book. An ardaas or prayer was done by one of the singer Bhai ji. Grandpa gave him a piece of paper and while doing the ardaas he looked at the paper many times and pronounced Mothu's long school name. Everybody, he found was looking at him benignantly. Mothu had a feeling - never had so far - of importance being in the eyes of so many people.
Prasad was distributed and Langer was served. Mothu and other children were enjoying serving the guests sitting on the floor in the room where paath was for the last one week. The book had already been carried on the head by grandpa on the first floor and kept with maryada (respectful ritual)in one of the almirahs. By evening all the guests were gone, grandpa was back with his account book entering all the expenses and what ever gifts came. Bhai ji was staying over for the night and was already gone the next day before Mothu woke up. He kept lying on the bed and could here only the old sounds of his family. He was quiet and felt sad on the absence of noises and hum drum of the last one week. He was wondering when this will happen again, may be next birthday!
Mothu grew up to become a scientist and worked in a govt lab 1000 miles away from his small town. That birthday celebration got never repeated again. May be the profit and loss balance in grandpa’s book got out of control that month and put a stop to this kind of extravaganza. However, his every birthday till he was 12 years old used to bring a surprise celebration for him. Some birthdays were with the feast of the specialties by his mother, hot puris, kabuli gram, dahi bhalla with special red sweet sauce and kaddu bhaji. She will call Mothu's friends and goad them to have their fill. His rakhi sister and her mother always used to be around as guests and helping hands. The food was distributed to the neighbors in the street. All the neighbors had relative tags; ladies were chachis (aunts) to Mothu. Mothu used to go to four more close neighbors’ houses with the covered plates of full meal and in turn will get their blessings on his birthday. Another year it will be lady sangeet on the eve of his birthday, again a festive like atmosphere with Mothu at the centre of universe.
Today young Mothu wonders, for a child like Mothu, juxtaposed between three generations, may be he had all his insecurity set aside because of the importance, blessings and variety celebration in his formative years birthdays.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A Morning Kite and Lifelong Thread
‘Its 6.30 in the morning. Sun is almost up. All the other family members – grandpa, bibi (mother) and grandma have left their beds’. Mothu saw their folded bedding on the wooden cots. They generally got up and left the ‘chatt’- the flat roof of a house, used by most of the families, in the neighborhood to sleeps in open during the summers from April to July – an hour ago before Mothu opened his eyes to the day. He was listening to the noises from the kitchen below, half of a room on the first floor of the house. The front half was open to the sky and served as landing space for the stairs going down up to the ground floor.
The sound of pounding of onions, ginger and garlic in a small stone kundi was the daily wake up call for Mothu. Grandpa would sit on the landing and do this job after his bath and getting ready to go for the work. Grandma must be stirring the set boiled milk in an earthen pot for butter. Occasionally he could hear the water being poured into the tank made in a wall in the kitchen towards the far end – area used for cooking. There was also a chimney on the other side for the smoke from the coal fired small angithi (furnace) on the other side. His mother must be fetching water from the municipal tap in the street, just a few houses away. Mothu’s house was the dead end of the street of twenty houses.
Suddenly from the corner of his eyes he saw a big kite flying overhead. ‘Where is the processed thread I got yesterday?’ Mothu was relieved that the 25 yards of thread he got yesterday from his kite seller and the kite was in the barsaati – a small covered part of the roof to store the beddings and cots and also to sleep under in case of sudden showers. There was a strong urge to fly his kite as well. Mothu got from his bed, looked around and saw quite a few kites already in the sky. This was the beginning of the summer vacation and kids were already up before time – they were always late for getting up during normal school days – and starting making best of the vacation.
Mothu however had a problem, he had strict instructions not to fly kite except in the evening. Its only on this condition, grandma had relented half an hour of pestering to give him 5 annas (one rupee had 16 annas and each anna 4 paise) to buy his manjha and the kite. He had very little time to put his skills to test, the big kite was already up for the last 15 minutes and sun was about to cover the whole roof quickly. Already there were two calls for him to get up and come down. Mothu took out his flute and stated blowing in to it keeping his hands free for the kite, already made ready to fly. Noise from the flute convinced his mother down stairs that he was awake and just trying to figure out playing flute.
His small kite was up in the sky in no time with only 25 yards of thread to ward off any aggressive move from another kite. Rest of the thread had no powdered glass stuck with glue on it and would snap off in a single sweep. Mothu was thinking fast, his mouth blowing into the flute, eyes fixed on the big kite which has noticed the small intruder in its space and his arms and hands maneuvering his own kite so that the first touch between the two is on his manjha. Of course he could see that the other kite was flying on complete manjha which Mothu could ill afford. The moment of his test seem to be coming closer. He could see from the corner of his eye that the 'big' had noticed him and decided to do away with him first before going forward with other conquests. Now Mothu was nervous. He was not sure of getting another allowance for the next one week at least to get his kite and manjha. If he looses his kite he will be sitting quiet in the evenings on the roof of his house watching other kids all around enjoying their kites in the sky. But he also knew that in his class – he completed eight years in the Feb. – he was good at kites. Then also the fact that he could make his grandmother give him an other allowance, may be with a small reprimand.
Thus the decision was made in Mothus head and he stopped avoiding the big kite. Next moment it swooped on Mothu's kite was already positioned for the contact at manjha. The touch of two different threads instantly sent a sensation through Mothu’s fingers holding the thread. The only reflex in this case and situation was to pull the thread fast and with force. Mothu did as it was planned and wired in his system. He knew that any delay – even fraction of a second – is fatal in this combat.
Suddenly Mothu found the sensation of two rubbing threads no more passing on to his finger. And he looked up, there was only his kite above, the 'big' floating direction less away from his kite and going down. There was sudden commotion all around. 'Mothu has won, and he humbled Gaama. Bravo Mothu' came the cry from the kids around. Gaama ! Mothu looked back. Few roofs away, the biggest kite flier known in the city was gathering the thread and as soon as he saw Mothu’s diminutive figure standing on his cot he gave him a symbolic salute and said Bravo.
Many years later Mothu, a senior researcher in a Govt. Lab, 1000 miles way from his small town, can still feel the reverberations of that applause and a very gracious way of accepting defeat by a champion from a small child. This exhilarating feeling of ten minutes and the whole scenario of that morning has etched in Mothu’s memory. In the middle of his life now, Mothu finds himself playing the scene again and again when he feels miserable and down. These moments never failed him. He has always come out better, little less depressed, little more prepared to face a difficult situation in his life.
This small incident made this young boy a hero in the neighborhood. Gaama came with his friends to Mothu’s house the same evening and congratulated Mothu on his triumph in the morning. Appreciated his kite flying skills. He left 500 yards of manjha for Mothu as a gift. In a way Gaama expanded the opportunity space of Mothu in kite flying 20 times!
Treasure the exhilarating moments of life and play these again and again to propel one out of sticky situations.
The sound of pounding of onions, ginger and garlic in a small stone kundi was the daily wake up call for Mothu. Grandpa would sit on the landing and do this job after his bath and getting ready to go for the work. Grandma must be stirring the set boiled milk in an earthen pot for butter. Occasionally he could hear the water being poured into the tank made in a wall in the kitchen towards the far end – area used for cooking. There was also a chimney on the other side for the smoke from the coal fired small angithi (furnace) on the other side. His mother must be fetching water from the municipal tap in the street, just a few houses away. Mothu’s house was the dead end of the street of twenty houses.
Suddenly from the corner of his eyes he saw a big kite flying overhead. ‘Where is the processed thread I got yesterday?’ Mothu was relieved that the 25 yards of thread he got yesterday from his kite seller and the kite was in the barsaati – a small covered part of the roof to store the beddings and cots and also to sleep under in case of sudden showers. There was a strong urge to fly his kite as well. Mothu got from his bed, looked around and saw quite a few kites already in the sky. This was the beginning of the summer vacation and kids were already up before time – they were always late for getting up during normal school days – and starting making best of the vacation.
Mothu however had a problem, he had strict instructions not to fly kite except in the evening. Its only on this condition, grandma had relented half an hour of pestering to give him 5 annas (one rupee had 16 annas and each anna 4 paise) to buy his manjha and the kite. He had very little time to put his skills to test, the big kite was already up for the last 15 minutes and sun was about to cover the whole roof quickly. Already there were two calls for him to get up and come down. Mothu took out his flute and stated blowing in to it keeping his hands free for the kite, already made ready to fly. Noise from the flute convinced his mother down stairs that he was awake and just trying to figure out playing flute.
His small kite was up in the sky in no time with only 25 yards of thread to ward off any aggressive move from another kite. Rest of the thread had no powdered glass stuck with glue on it and would snap off in a single sweep. Mothu was thinking fast, his mouth blowing into the flute, eyes fixed on the big kite which has noticed the small intruder in its space and his arms and hands maneuvering his own kite so that the first touch between the two is on his manjha. Of course he could see that the other kite was flying on complete manjha which Mothu could ill afford. The moment of his test seem to be coming closer. He could see from the corner of his eye that the 'big' had noticed him and decided to do away with him first before going forward with other conquests. Now Mothu was nervous. He was not sure of getting another allowance for the next one week at least to get his kite and manjha. If he looses his kite he will be sitting quiet in the evenings on the roof of his house watching other kids all around enjoying their kites in the sky. But he also knew that in his class – he completed eight years in the Feb. – he was good at kites. Then also the fact that he could make his grandmother give him an other allowance, may be with a small reprimand.
Thus the decision was made in Mothus head and he stopped avoiding the big kite. Next moment it swooped on Mothu's kite was already positioned for the contact at manjha. The touch of two different threads instantly sent a sensation through Mothu’s fingers holding the thread. The only reflex in this case and situation was to pull the thread fast and with force. Mothu did as it was planned and wired in his system. He knew that any delay – even fraction of a second – is fatal in this combat.
Suddenly Mothu found the sensation of two rubbing threads no more passing on to his finger. And he looked up, there was only his kite above, the 'big' floating direction less away from his kite and going down. There was sudden commotion all around. 'Mothu has won, and he humbled Gaama. Bravo Mothu' came the cry from the kids around. Gaama ! Mothu looked back. Few roofs away, the biggest kite flier known in the city was gathering the thread and as soon as he saw Mothu’s diminutive figure standing on his cot he gave him a symbolic salute and said Bravo.
Many years later Mothu, a senior researcher in a Govt. Lab, 1000 miles way from his small town, can still feel the reverberations of that applause and a very gracious way of accepting defeat by a champion from a small child. This exhilarating feeling of ten minutes and the whole scenario of that morning has etched in Mothu’s memory. In the middle of his life now, Mothu finds himself playing the scene again and again when he feels miserable and down. These moments never failed him. He has always come out better, little less depressed, little more prepared to face a difficult situation in his life.
This small incident made this young boy a hero in the neighborhood. Gaama came with his friends to Mothu’s house the same evening and congratulated Mothu on his triumph in the morning. Appreciated his kite flying skills. He left 500 yards of manjha for Mothu as a gift. In a way Gaama expanded the opportunity space of Mothu in kite flying 20 times!
Treasure the exhilarating moments of life and play these again and again to propel one out of sticky situations.
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