Through out our lives we fill our basket of memories with various snippets of incidents. Among all these, one or two of them have sparkles which twinkles back at us when ever we take a quick peek into the basket of past. Such a little shiny tale jumps out of my memory and wants to spill into your way.
Growing up in a joint family, has its highs and lows and share of stories which are different in form and nature. We lived in a house of 14 members, yes, you heard me right, 14 members, of different ages and of various stages of life. The head of this clan was my gallant "Dadu", as we the youngest generation called him. A tall man of 6'2", with majorly shinny bald head and a border line of snowy silver fencing of hair. He was lean and never walked with a cane. His attitude was not to behave like a and old man, and so substituted the walking-stick by using his long umbrella instead. Dadu had a very routine life, and being a man of very strict principles, he loved it when we followed those guidelines of his. After retiring from the Railways of India, he lived a life of casual leisure, although his retired life was longer than his actual work life. He even joked that he had received more pension than salary and was, in some strange way proud about it. The beginning of the month, he would, very patiently make some calculations with his fountain pen and his pocket note book. Dressing up in his white long shirts and white dhoti, after taking a dip in the pond of our house, he would then make his way to the bank to receive his month's due.
We were half a dozen of female sibling in the house, all cousins counting. My sister being the youngest and the one with the most wicked of mind. She was no doubt my "Thamma's" pet, that is my Grandma. She was her shadow and always mimicked her in everything. Being a sharp and witty little one, she always found ways to get Dadu to part with some of his treasure, often making us an allies to her escapades.
Dadu, during the rest of the days, collected 10p coins from the family members, who came back from the bazaar. He had a thin flask or container in which he collected this bounty. The reason of collection was for a special day. Come Sunday morning, out-side our main gate there would be a line of beggars or needy people. Most of them were old widows, who were either homeless or were not taken care by their family. How can a 10p. be such an important part of their earnings, made me sit and wonder, even today I am perplexed. Many were familiar faces as I saw them every Sunday. My Thamma knew many of them by name and what their background were. It made me think, why do these same women travel all the way to our house just for 10p every Sunday, they could just sit in one place and beg yet get more alms.
This thought entered my head number of times, but could not find the courage to voice it to anyone, at the cost of being rebuked by Ma or even any other older members of the family. Joint families had rules and some of them did not have any explanations, yet needed to be followed with full intensity. A query from the lower ranks of the family pyramid would mean one thing..."rebellion". I was the one who always tend to be colored in that hue, and Ma had her eye brows cocked at me when ever I tried to squeak my doubts. Many a Sundays, when Dadu was not home, we got to do the honors of distributing the "10 paise" to the prospective ones. On many occasions I saw my Grandma, talking to two particular old women and even gave them her old sarees. As most of my infancy and few years of early childhood was out of the country, the ways of life over there was very perplexing to me. The rituals were to an extend understandable but the social norms just did not make any sense. My mind churned most of the time with all these thoughts and tried hard to fit in the mold my cousins were living in. It was such a hard task as the molds were not absolutely made for me in any way.
Baba was the only one who understood me, yet did not verbally encourage my questions as he knew, it would be kindling a fire. Life was like receiving 10p. to spend for what, I had no idea. At times I felt the life of these needy people could be equated with mine, I needed a reason for following these "norms" all the people around me are following, yet I never understood why.
One fine day, I was the privileged one to deliver those prized 10p. coins and I got to meet one of the old ladies. My curiosity saw the chance to jump into action and I actually blurted out, "why do you come all the way to our house to beg". As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized it did not sound so right, and my Ma magically appeared. With no trace of softness of any kind, pinched my ears and pulled me inside the house. My Thamma, on the other hand was shuffling from pacifying my Ma to stop punishing me and telling the old lady that am just a child and that children say the darn-est things. Ma wanted to both hide me from the torrent of words I was going to hear from the rest of the elders and to make me realize the gravity of the things I had just done. For me it felt like a big drama being unfolded in which I am the bad guy and am standing up for trial, a obvious observation for a 13year old with mixed feelings of the early teenage years.
Till Baba arrived in the scene I felt as if the earth needs to open up and swallow me up, had just learnt about the action of Sita from the Ramayana. Oh what a dramatic shape of mind I possessed. With all that feverant praying the surface of the floor did not seem to have any dent of any kind. I took in the shower of words directed to me with few of Ma's well aimed blows. Heard Thamma telling, don't hit her, she does not know the ways of life here, instead explain it to her. That was my chance to talk, and I said voiced my confusion in total unrelated sentences. The confused stage turned to anger and a wild feelings of trowing any thing I could get. Doing that would only agrevate the situation, so all I could do was scream and stomp my foot into my room. That was difiance enough for the rest of the house hold. My Dadu appeared after his morning walk, quite oblivion of the drama that had just taken place and innocently asked if the 10paisas had been given. My grandma pounced on him, accusing him of creating such an issue at home with his 10p. Dadu joined in my club of utter confused people.
It took me some number of year to understand at least a part of the what really happened that day. Although some things seem to bug me still now. My Dadu and Thamma are both bright stars in heaven today, I look at them every night and feel their love showing on me. Their blessings are part of my life's daily dose. Many of my Dadu's teachings and my Thamma's love filled moments are in my basket of treasures to enrich my life.
Growing up in a joint family, has its highs and lows and share of stories which are different in form and nature. We lived in a house of 14 members, yes, you heard me right, 14 members, of different ages and of various stages of life. The head of this clan was my gallant "Dadu", as we the youngest generation called him. A tall man of 6'2", with majorly shinny bald head and a border line of snowy silver fencing of hair. He was lean and never walked with a cane. His attitude was not to behave like a and old man, and so substituted the walking-stick by using his long umbrella instead. Dadu had a very routine life, and being a man of very strict principles, he loved it when we followed those guidelines of his. After retiring from the Railways of India, he lived a life of casual leisure, although his retired life was longer than his actual work life. He even joked that he had received more pension than salary and was, in some strange way proud about it. The beginning of the month, he would, very patiently make some calculations with his fountain pen and his pocket note book. Dressing up in his white long shirts and white dhoti, after taking a dip in the pond of our house, he would then make his way to the bank to receive his month's due.
We were half a dozen of female sibling in the house, all cousins counting. My sister being the youngest and the one with the most wicked of mind. She was no doubt my "Thamma's" pet, that is my Grandma. She was her shadow and always mimicked her in everything. Being a sharp and witty little one, she always found ways to get Dadu to part with some of his treasure, often making us an allies to her escapades.
Dadu, during the rest of the days, collected 10p coins from the family members, who came back from the bazaar. He had a thin flask or container in which he collected this bounty. The reason of collection was for a special day. Come Sunday morning, out-side our main gate there would be a line of beggars or needy people. Most of them were old widows, who were either homeless or were not taken care by their family. How can a 10p. be such an important part of their earnings, made me sit and wonder, even today I am perplexed. Many were familiar faces as I saw them every Sunday. My Thamma knew many of them by name and what their background were. It made me think, why do these same women travel all the way to our house just for 10p every Sunday, they could just sit in one place and beg yet get more alms.
This thought entered my head number of times, but could not find the courage to voice it to anyone, at the cost of being rebuked by Ma or even any other older members of the family. Joint families had rules and some of them did not have any explanations, yet needed to be followed with full intensity. A query from the lower ranks of the family pyramid would mean one thing..."rebellion". I was the one who always tend to be colored in that hue, and Ma had her eye brows cocked at me when ever I tried to squeak my doubts. Many a Sundays, when Dadu was not home, we got to do the honors of distributing the "10 paise" to the prospective ones. On many occasions I saw my Grandma, talking to two particular old women and even gave them her old sarees. As most of my infancy and few years of early childhood was out of the country, the ways of life over there was very perplexing to me. The rituals were to an extend understandable but the social norms just did not make any sense. My mind churned most of the time with all these thoughts and tried hard to fit in the mold my cousins were living in. It was such a hard task as the molds were not absolutely made for me in any way.
Baba was the only one who understood me, yet did not verbally encourage my questions as he knew, it would be kindling a fire. Life was like receiving 10p. to spend for what, I had no idea. At times I felt the life of these needy people could be equated with mine, I needed a reason for following these "norms" all the people around me are following, yet I never understood why.
One fine day, I was the privileged one to deliver those prized 10p. coins and I got to meet one of the old ladies. My curiosity saw the chance to jump into action and I actually blurted out, "why do you come all the way to our house to beg". As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized it did not sound so right, and my Ma magically appeared. With no trace of softness of any kind, pinched my ears and pulled me inside the house. My Thamma, on the other hand was shuffling from pacifying my Ma to stop punishing me and telling the old lady that am just a child and that children say the darn-est things. Ma wanted to both hide me from the torrent of words I was going to hear from the rest of the elders and to make me realize the gravity of the things I had just done. For me it felt like a big drama being unfolded in which I am the bad guy and am standing up for trial, a obvious observation for a 13year old with mixed feelings of the early teenage years.
Till Baba arrived in the scene I felt as if the earth needs to open up and swallow me up, had just learnt about the action of Sita from the Ramayana. Oh what a dramatic shape of mind I possessed. With all that feverant praying the surface of the floor did not seem to have any dent of any kind. I took in the shower of words directed to me with few of Ma's well aimed blows. Heard Thamma telling, don't hit her, she does not know the ways of life here, instead explain it to her. That was my chance to talk, and I said voiced my confusion in total unrelated sentences. The confused stage turned to anger and a wild feelings of trowing any thing I could get. Doing that would only agrevate the situation, so all I could do was scream and stomp my foot into my room. That was difiance enough for the rest of the house hold. My Dadu appeared after his morning walk, quite oblivion of the drama that had just taken place and innocently asked if the 10paisas had been given. My grandma pounced on him, accusing him of creating such an issue at home with his 10p. Dadu joined in my club of utter confused people.
It took me some number of year to understand at least a part of the what really happened that day. Although some things seem to bug me still now. My Dadu and Thamma are both bright stars in heaven today, I look at them every night and feel their love showing on me. Their blessings are part of my life's daily dose. Many of my Dadu's teachings and my Thamma's love filled moments are in my basket of treasures to enrich my life.
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