It’s a weary Saturday afternoon with none of the excitements to come over, I sit leaning beside the window in my small room of the hostel, and my tired eyes glued to the chirping kids outside, who are busy in their melodious paradise of the ethnic game..”Ghar Ghar“, a game I think inherited to almost every Indian child, and even I cherished it with my dear once in the younger times.
Suddenly I began to get a bolt from my nostalgic instincts regarding a very significant part of early life on that boring afternoon, and even the hustle and bustle outside my window could not influence the flood of memories in me, where one could not help but notice the difference in appearances, languages, attire and body languages in South India, here the museum of people around were pulling me back to my yesteryear’s in Dehradun, the valley of love and serenity.
The air was filled resemblingly with different frequencies of sound and in that indistinct chatter, I could make out the tinkling of cold bunta bottles (a soda lemon drink), gossips of various flavours, loud calls of self employed entrepreneurs of “shanivaar bazaar” and sizzling of mashed potatoes for the spicy Indian aloo chaat.
This instantly transported me back in time, when Nani and Nana(maternal grand parents) used to accompany me to these tiny moments in Dehradun. I was lucky enough to spend a phase of my childhood in their presence and was nurtured in utmost care. I,then being a small one, could only analyze the love scattered everywhere,when Nanaji made me an expertise in the knowledge of “tenses” and a sense of eloquent grammar at a very unripe age,while making me having the joyful time on rope tree swing which he made for me on the litchi tree in our verandah. The easy learning process of everyday was given an occasional push when the exhaust fan of the kitchen spewed oily and spicy smoke into the aangan and its aroma used to dilute everywhere indicating a luscious treat to my tastebuds.
The swing, the smell , my Nana Nani and me, this combination felt a part of best wonderland I could have ever imagined.
I was rocked back to time , when suddenly the power cut dispensed and the fan began to produce its flunking clatter signifying its steady motion.There was an echo of nostalgia and amidst that I spotted my Nani’s ever calm smiling face with rosary beads being spunned by her tender fingers every morning. She had an aura of exuberance & a spark in her happiness, which refused to fade away. The static presence of Nana Nani made the environment very soothing and radiated the tranquil and peace spread over the valley of Dehradun. I still used to encounter the same essence and my connection with Dehradun till date was more or less influenced by the utmost love I was showered on, by my maternal grandparents.
I employed caution to recollect myself to the present decorum and gave a cursory look to my sloppy room and motionless gadgets but I only found was the glimpse of my sweet memories, which were beautifully instilled in me due to the versatile personality of those heavenly souls.They were the true epitome of love, care, sympathy and gratitude.
My Nanaji was a very sincere person with an in-depth sea of British English which I suppose, he had already begun to counterbalance with me in his instincts. His advises were crisp and will never leave me. The mesmerizing love will always be alive in me with a fusion of his evocative thoughts and creativity.
Earthly possessions were dwarfed in front of this heavenly bliss. This has the power to propel you on the life path that is so uncertain. I seem to share not only a perfect blend of flesh and blood through lineage but also the spirit and verve of their soul due to the bond we shared.
I finally composed to gather myself to the world outside my deeply filled heart and aptitude and smiled at the instants I cherished in that lonesome Saturday afternoon.