The diamond earrings

30 saal baad, her zest for life, her love for dressing up, with lots of jewellery, the amazing stories ...
continue to fascinate me!
I spy diamonds on her earlobes, winking brightly at me.
My mother-in-law narrates this amazing kahani:
Her father worked for the Maharaja Of Mysore and knew Sir C.V. Raman and his family. Lady Raman (as my m-i-l calls her), was very fond of my Saas, then a 14 yr old girl.
Buying diamond earrings is serious business in the South. The reputation, the 'porutham', the cut ...
M-I-L's Father bumped into C.V.Raman and his wife at the diamond store, where they had come to pick up a pair of diamond earrings, which C.V.R. had carefully researched and reserved for Lady Raman.
When he found out that diamonds were being bought for my Maamiyaar, he promptly handed the earrings to her Dad.
Both C.V.R and Lady Raman were so so fond of my mother-in-law, they wanted her to have the earrings which had been so carefully picked out.
So there you are ...
My m-i-l proudly sports diamond earrings, carefully picked out by Sir C.V.Raman and his wife!!!

Ajeeb dastaan hai yeh ...

This song will always remind me of ...

the aroma of camphor and agarbatti from the Pooja room, Amma leisurely reading the newspaper and her stack of Tamizh magazines, with her collection of purane hindi film geet playing, humming along with this magical melody ...

and we would always at some point, end up bursting into helpless laughter, when we remembered a dialogue from the film.

Only Tamizh speaking folk will understand the humor of this ...

The hero, Rajkumar, of 'Jaani' fame, is a doctor in the film. He sternly tells his wife, who refuses to open the door for someone, asking for the doctor, in the middle of the night,

"Raat ke baarah baje bhi, koi hamari kundi khat-khataye,
toh hamey jaana hi padega! !!"

Life 'n Loss ...

Life & Loss has taught me:
That you will never understand loss, no matter how much you empathize & sympathize with others, until it actually happens to you.
That every harsh word exchanged with a loved one, will come back to haunt you when they are not around.
That, in time, you will pick up the pieces and move on, but a permanent & nagging heart ache will reside in your being forever.
That what you are left with are memories … so make the time & take the effort to create them. A casual outing, a shopping trip, some photo opportunities, a quiet moment listening to music, hanging around in the kitchen, stalking relatives on facebook ...

That all your parents wanted was for you to stay healthy & happy (&wealthy, I think!) & what would make them happiest would be for you to move forward and ensure that your kids get the benefit of the same liberated, uplifting upbringing that you were fortunate to have.
That your Parents were also a couple who shared a deep bond, which defied "death do you apart".
That if there was ever a right time to use that sense of humor, you inherited, in abundance, from the most wonderful parents, it is right here, right now …
That clichéd inspirational quote:
“Live, Laugh, Love” … now I understand!

Meet the Parents, Amma style!

I had the coolest Mom.

When Ashok and I decided to get married, my feisty Amma enthusiastically went on a pilgrimage with my to-be-in-laws,
to "Meet The Parents" and to get to know them better.

They came back good friends, with a deep and lasting bond.

Bless you, Amma!

It's moi!

It's been a while since I visited my friendly neighborhood beauty parlor.
Which means I have been going around with greying hair, shabby nails and how do I put this ...
a well grown mustache!

So here I am finally, my hair gratefully soaking up chemical color and some lawn- mowing happening, above my lips!
Problem is, when I walk out of the salon, hair gleaming darkly and my face, cleared of weeds, clean,bright ...
and I lose my memory, no one will recognise me!!!!

Doston, keeping you posted ... in case you hear of a plump, middle-aged lady, with dark hair and a clean face, wearing an over starched, green churidar-kurta, that's moi!!!
Please call up my husband immediately!!!

Hello Aunty!!!

So there is this tiny, Punjabi restaurant, from where I regularly get my rotis.

Yeah, yeah, I am a lazy slob and don't make my own chappatis! Now can I get on with my story?!

This has been going on for years. When I call the restaurant, my voice is instantly recognized.

I am fondly greeted, we exchange pleasantries, wish each other good weekends and if I forget, they remind me that I like my rotis without ghee.

There is this young guy who sometimes picks up the phone - a cultured, polite chap, who I assume is the owner's son, who cheerfully says, "Hi Madam!"

We always chat a bit, before the placing of the order.

So much so, that if once in a while, my husband calls, he asks him where 'Madam' is and why she hasn't called, much to Ashok's indignation!

We do go to the restaurant once in a while, where we are greeted like family members & the whole restaurant comes out to meet the '42, Golden Tower waali Memsaab'! But this guy has never been around to meet 'Madam'!

Recently, friends from India were here & they wanted to have homely Punjabi food. So we took them to our favorite restaurant.

As we entered, all the waiters, delivery guys and management, smiled warmly and I saw a young man, who was being told that this was the Madam who ordered rotis from Golden Tower. We were meeting for the first time and grinned at each other.

A few days later, Ashok called the restaurant to place an order. Our young guy picked up the phone. This time he asked, "AUNTY kaisi hain?"

Ha ha ha ....

That day I learned two important lessons:

1. My voice sounds young, like a 'Madam'!

2. In person, I look old enough to be an 'Aunty'!!!

PS: He continued to call Ashok, "Sir", not "Uncle", btw!!!!

Lungi Tales!

A length of fabric, a lifetime of memories ...

Ashok chose to beat the Chennai heat and fondly recall his friendship with Appa, by wearing Dad's lungis.

When I would go to the store to pick up Appa's lungis, I was always asked, whether the person who was going to wear them, was old and was then shown, sober shades.

Grinning widely, I would respond,
'young at heart' and proceed to buy lungis, in all the colours of the rainbow,
Orange, Yellow, Purple ....

Ashok Kaushik carried back a couple of Appa's lungis, to remind him of all the sports they watched endlessly together ...

the cursing, the cheering, the discussions -
bright, happy, loud, colorful moments,
just like the lungis Appa wore!

Now Ashok needs to learn to keep his lungi on, without allowing it to slip down!

Love You, Appa!

Appa, My First Superhero!

A trip home, to be with Appa, who is unwell.
The thought of seeing him in less than peak condition, worries me, as I fly towards Chennai.

This is the father, who until my last trip home, unfailingly woke in the wee hours of the morning, to brew filter coffee for me.

Dad, who took my newly married husband aside, while seeing us off at the Railway Station, to ask Ashok, to be patient and understanding. He assured him, that buried under all that aggression and loud talk, was a misguided, but good human being, meaning me!!!

The cool dude, who sheepishly asked me if I would like to 'see some boys' and hastily fled, after a quick embarassed nod, when I told him I wasn't ready.

When Amma went away for a wedding, for a few days, it was just Appa and me at home. I would come from work, to find that Dad had a hot meal waiting for me. Sure, the custard was burnt and the 'vazhakkai'/kachcha kela, had been cooked, with the skin on ...
yet, one of the tastiest dinners I remember!

My father, who knew nothing about fashion, but surprised me by coming along to pick my wedding sari. One look at a golden yellow silk, with a maroon zari border and he said it was a 'mangalamaana' color, which would suit 'Uma-kutti'!

A man of few words, in a family dominated by women, the only person, who never fails to anxiously ask, "Has Uma eaten?"

Appa, who told me stories like the one where if you swallowed the seeds, a plant would grow from your stomach and out of your mouth!

I believed him ...

Appa, My First Superhero!

Can't wait to see you.

(Appa passed away a few days later.)

The Suitcases ...

The corner of my room has a couple of suitcases sitting quietly, patiently, waiting to be unpacked.

It’s been over a month since I returned from Chennai. It is scary how easy it is to regain a semblance of normalcy & resume your routine, no matter how big your loss has been.

The two most important people in my life, who were not just my parents, but were responsible for the individual I shaped into, are not around anymore; Yet life moves on, food is cooked, housework happens, you go for your walks, watch your TV shows, spend time with friends & relatives, interact on social media & on the surface, you almost fool yourself that all is kind of well …

But then, those suitcases, unpacked & unattended to, make me confront the painful reality that this is the last time I will return from Amma-Appa’s house, with bags bursting with everything under the sun - from rasam powder, bright, happy clothes which delighted Amma, documents & bank stuff, carefully packed by Appa, old photographs stolen from the family collection … & the smells, of hot, flavored sambhar, of the odonil from Amma’s cupboard, of Appa fresh from his shower, filling the air with the scent of talcum powder and generously sprayed perfume, of the music in the air, from MS’s divine voice, to old hindi film songs, the sounds of the servants being scolded, of Amma excitedly chatting on the phone with her siblings, the aroma of coffee, carefully prepared by Appa in the wee hours of the morning … A lifetime, of being loved unconditionally, packed into those two suitcases.

So the unpacking will have to wait. Till I can breathe normally, till the knot of pain in my stomach melts, till I can look at photographs of Amma-Appa, which dot my walls & not want to physically hug them, till I cannot feel totally devastated that milestones will happen in our lives, graduation, weddings, children … without their physical presence, though the love and blessings hug you like a warm, soothing blanket forever!

The First Sari ...

I am a Veteran Empty Nester, with 5 intense years of experience.

From denial, drama, melodrama, tears, anxiety … to a calm acceptance, my journey as a parent, with her jigar-ka-tukda living saat-samundar-paar, has come full circle.

When daughter dearest became a working girl, it meant that she was no longer a college student, with those luxurious months of holidays, which are mainly meant for us sad parents, to soak up suputri love.

I have the reputation of being quite the drama queen, but have quite surprised my miya & beti, by handling the transition quite well & making the most of that ugly phrase, ‘quality time’!!!
Just when I was patting myself on my broad back, for behaving like a mature & sensible adult …

my daughter’s best friend is getting married & hamaari beti is one of the bridesmaids. The wedding is in Tulsa, USA and she goes directly there, from London, where she lives.

My heart melted, when she sent me a picture of herself, in her bridesmaid's dress. Like any reasonable, level headed, unbiased mother, I thought my daughter looked like a princess and could not stop looking at the photo.

Then a few days later, she casually mentioned, that for one of the events, all the bridesmaids were going to wear saris and that she planned to look for a sari and blouse in Southhall, the desi part of London.

Strangely, Shiksha has never worn a sari in her life. Lehengas, Anarkalis, Paavadais, Dhavanis … all kinds of desi gear, but not a sari.

Suddenly I wanted to cry. I was no longer a brave empty nester. I had this desperate need to be with my daughter, when she bought her first sari. I had to be the one who helped her drape those six yards around herself. I sobbed at the thought that my mother was not there to call up and excitedly tell her that Shiksha was going to wear a sari.

How can six yards of fabric & the thought of it wrapped around Beti S, turn me into a mushy mess?!

This too shall pass … I will be back to posting inappropriate jokes on facebook and doing what I am best at – nothing!!!

But aaj, abhi, ippo … my thoughts are with that piece of my heart, wandering around a desi district of London, having dosas and pani-puri & shopping for her ekdum first sari!