Thursday, May 27
Wednesday, May 26
Summer in Doon: A Wishlist
..morning..
emerging with renewal from a cavernous sleep
rain on the window sill
some on the niwaar bed
cool moist air and the fan still,
a distant kaphal pako calling
and then the rain stopping
remnants of a nocturnal bat feast on the bajri,
half eaten lychees, leaves, seeds, peels
sweet baking smells on the neighbourhood breeze
drenched spider lilies transluscent from the rain
and in the verandah, a pot of pink zephyr lilies suddenly abloom
delicate like the fallen wings of insects crowding last evenings's light bulb
someone's voice beckoning from within,
intriguing b&w moments and sepia stories frozen on the mantle piece
Mum hugging her knees on Nanaji's araam kursi..laughing and girlish
Radio Ceylon crackling.. the announcer ebbing and flowing..
Fragrance of sankranti ka kadhaa beginning to waft
In the puja room, head covered with a large white kerchief her father
reciting from the Granth Sahib, tears rolling down his cheeks
looking at him, the feeling of awe lingering
like the smell of chandan agarbattis in Nani's razais
later looking through a pears soap bar in the dark dank bathroom
at a large quiet spider in the corner
after breakfast, beginning the first neat page of holiday homework
a masi teasing, "you should learn crochet, embroidery these holidays"
then off phalsa picking(and tasting) in the back yard(umm.um.. khatta.. ummm sweet)
snake fears in the tangles of weeds and then suddenly a bee sting!
Cousins back on hired cycles(Where did you go? Where did you go?Ambiwalla? this walla/that walla? No, Raipur! We bathed in the stream!)
they've brought an empty baya's nest
hot gobhi and bhis ka pakoras in a paper bag..chutney in leaves
..noon to afternoon..
baarish
and then a very bright sun
and in the kathal shade quietness
the mali pulling on a smoke..reflecting on his crop of bhang
the cow lowing in the shed and the ca..lf!!
raw peaches, plums and cousins amidst the smell of gobar
bonding..
secrets..
quarrels!
old musty books: Pearl S. Buck, Lobsang Rampa, Georgette Heyer, Daphne du Maurier.. Chase, Perry Masons.. Nick Carters! And faded tattered comics:Archies..Batman, Phantom, Commando..
an old sitar, a harmonium and a 'singing teacher'
Shammi/Shashi Kapoor's matinee antics at New Empire
Talat Mehmood sadness on the radio blinking with phosphorescent lights,
overheard scraps of some faintly disturbing, some tantalizing family stories
aam ka panna with ghar ka pudhina,
more flavoursome than sweet kharbooza(no, really!)
but the real mi or sam of summer
sucking on aam after aam, unending tokrafuls
and once in a lucky while, glorious, glorious
emerging with renewal from a cavernous sleep
rain on the window sill
some on the niwaar bed
cool moist air and the fan still,
a distant kaphal pako calling
and then the rain stopping
remnants of a nocturnal bat feast on the bajri,
half eaten lychees, leaves, seeds, peels
sweet baking smells on the neighbourhood breeze
drenched spider lilies transluscent from the rain
and in the verandah, a pot of pink zephyr lilies suddenly abloom
delicate like the fallen wings of insects crowding last evenings's light bulb
someone's voice beckoning from within,
intriguing b&w moments and sepia stories frozen on the mantle piece
Mum hugging her knees on Nanaji's araam kursi..laughing and girlish
Radio Ceylon crackling.. the announcer ebbing and flowing..
Fragrance of sankranti ka kadhaa beginning to waft
In the puja room, head covered with a large white kerchief her father
reciting from the Granth Sahib, tears rolling down his cheeks
looking at him, the feeling of awe lingering
like the smell of chandan agarbattis in Nani's razais
later looking through a pears soap bar in the dark dank bathroom
at a large quiet spider in the corner
after breakfast, beginning the first neat page of holiday homework
a masi teasing, "you should learn crochet, embroidery these holidays"
then off phalsa picking(and tasting) in the back yard(umm.um.. khatta.. ummm sweet)
snake fears in the tangles of weeds and then suddenly a bee sting!
Cousins back on hired cycles(Where did you go? Where did you go?Ambiwalla? this walla/that walla? No, Raipur! We bathed in the stream!)
they've brought an empty baya's nest
hot gobhi and bhis ka pakoras in a paper bag..chutney in leaves
..noon to afternoon..
baarish
and then a very bright sun
and in the kathal shade quietness
the mali pulling on a smoke..reflecting on his crop of bhang
the cow lowing in the shed and the ca..lf!!
raw peaches, plums and cousins amidst the smell of gobar
bonding..
secrets..
quarrels!
old musty books: Pearl S. Buck, Lobsang Rampa, Georgette Heyer, Daphne du Maurier.. Chase, Perry Masons.. Nick Carters! And faded tattered comics:Archies..Batman, Phantom, Commando..
an old sitar, a harmonium and a 'singing teacher'
Shammi/Shashi Kapoor's matinee antics at New Empire
Talat Mehmood sadness on the radio blinking with phosphorescent lights,
overheard scraps of some faintly disturbing, some tantalizing family stories
aam ka panna with ghar ka pudhina,
more flavoursome than sweet kharbooza(no, really!)
but the real mi or sam of summer
sucking on aam after aam, unending tokrafuls
and once in a lucky while, glorious, glorious
tapka(“dhal ka ya pal ka?")
Long shot: An afternoon home - quiet on the outside, bliss within
then siesta for some under the sonorous fan
and in the high ceilinged drawing room
bittersweet bickering, rummy, sweep and bluff("this one always cheats!')
or carrom with the powdered board and the ever elusive Queen
or even chess for a few(like the enigmatic cousin from IIT)
or else 'icespice' amidst lychee stickiness and yellow wasps
once hiding close to the sweet boy from the house across
and him saying, "I really like you."
then rain..
dreams, crushes and heartaches
and the kutroo..kutrookkutrookkutrook..
..evening..
rusk and chai? or Dwarka store samosas?
No..a quick wash and talcum ready to go for a walk!
Astley Hall ki raunaq
spot his brother's glam Standard Herald outside the Billiards Room
no street lights tongas cycles a Fiat or two
or in fragrant mysterious Dalanwala
air filled with promise: Will I see him today?
dream of a drive to Kuthal Gate
or even a stolen trip to Mussoorie!
there shall we dance face to face
while the singer at Whispering Windows croons..
back to the present with the smell of chameli and raat rani
deafening crickets and the raucous tumbling East Canal..
Spirits falling, take the firefly captured in the chunni into the house
Suddenly, his voice in the verandah(!) humming the latest Kishore Kumar
along with the ticktok ticktok of table tennis..
pan to the juke box at Napoli's
(What did she, the striking one with the long brown hair and short red skirt, play for him?)
(Whatever will one ever do....?)
then one evening
'The Great Gatsby' at Odeon with him
drizzle outside
On the walk back, bats gliding and
spotted owlet song in the peppermint moonlight
..night..
At home in a pool of light, folks glued to the Binaca geet mala
a noisy"even lauki-tori-tastes-good-here" kind of dinner
followed by homemade icecream - a little crystalline, a trifle hard("Its like a rock! We used to have a wooden icecream maker..where did it go?!")
Then the elders settling to play bridge endlessly: Two hearts(!).. Three No Trumps ..no bid
then amongst the young ones serious machchar dani excitement
later lying in bed, orchard canistar-drums followed by haunting kunjar calls
even later, the sound of qawwalis on Radio Pakistan from Lalaji's room
Cliff Richard's Summer Holiday from the younger mama's
and bull frogs pouring their hearts out
strange..really strange insects settling on the outside of the net
the firefly, glowing safely on the inside
and big bright stars in the window
then thunder and lightning
much later falling asleep to the sound of rain..
Long shot: An afternoon home - quiet on the outside, bliss within
then siesta for some under the sonorous fan
and in the high ceilinged drawing room
bittersweet bickering, rummy, sweep and bluff("this one always cheats!')
or carrom with the powdered board and the ever elusive Queen
or even chess for a few(like the enigmatic cousin from IIT)
or else 'icespice' amidst lychee stickiness and yellow wasps
once hiding close to the sweet boy from the house across
and him saying, "I really like you."
then rain..
dreams, crushes and heartaches
and the kutroo..kutrookkutrookkutrook..
..evening..
rusk and chai? or Dwarka store samosas?
No..a quick wash and talcum ready to go for a walk!
Astley Hall ki raunaq
spot his brother's glam Standard Herald outside the Billiards Room
no street lights tongas cycles a Fiat or two
or in fragrant mysterious Dalanwala
air filled with promise: Will I see him today?
dream of a drive to Kuthal Gate
or even a stolen trip to Mussoorie!
there shall we dance face to face
while the singer at Whispering Windows croons..
back to the present with the smell of chameli and raat rani
deafening crickets and the raucous tumbling East Canal..
Spirits falling, take the firefly captured in the chunni into the house
Suddenly, his voice in the verandah(!) humming the latest Kishore Kumar
along with the ticktok ticktok of table tennis..
pan to the juke box at Napoli's
(What did she, the striking one with the long brown hair and short red skirt, play for him?)
(Whatever will one ever do....?)
then one evening
'The Great Gatsby' at Odeon with him
drizzle outside
On the walk back, bats gliding and
spotted owlet song in the peppermint moonlight
..night..
At home in a pool of light, folks glued to the Binaca geet mala
a noisy"even lauki-tori-tastes-good-here" kind of dinner
followed by homemade icecream - a little crystalline, a trifle hard("Its like a rock! We used to have a wooden icecream maker..where did it go?!")
Then the elders settling to play bridge endlessly: Two hearts(!).. Three No Trumps ..no bid
then amongst the young ones serious machchar dani excitement
later lying in bed, orchard canistar-drums followed by haunting kunjar calls
even later, the sound of qawwalis on Radio Pakistan from Lalaji's room
Cliff Richard's Summer Holiday from the younger mama's
and bull frogs pouring their hearts out
strange..really strange insects settling on the outside of the net
the firefly, glowing safely on the inside
and big bright stars in the window
then thunder and lightning
much later falling asleep to the sound of rain..
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