Jigsaw Piece

Morning of September 8 (or 7 or 6- don’t remember), 2011, Waitara

This morning when I woke up, it was a relief: A kind of relief that you attain after concluding a wearisome emotional turmoil. Probably it this unfinished, no rather undone task that was lingering in my subconscious mind and today I feel it’s completed. Well- this was a dream I had in the early hours of morning. I dreamt that Nana is on his way to abandon his mortal self. There is a sense of loss and grieve, there is also a sense of logic- someone in the background said, “He had been missing Nani a lot after she passed away…” Everyone around is acknowledging the fact that its time to bid him goodbye. I felt remorse, love and the pain of his separation.

Apart from that sole event during Sanjay mama’s marriage, when he covered me with a rough khadi blanket and asked Shree-Narayan mama to get me hot cup of Complan, he was always a figure who inspired discipline and righteousness rather than uncharted fondness or coddling. I do remember playing Chaau- Maau with him, bhaiya , Appu didi -holding ears of each other in a circle, yes that was fun… And the great excitement and curiosity we had when he brandished his walking stick amusingly calling it ‘Samjhavan’; that was fun too. Morning walks with him in the NCC grounds were fun: But most of the memories revolve around his concerning statements regarding self-improvement, hindi-spelling improvement and well-being in general. He was always man with a mission irrespective of his age or relationship and the gravity of his purpose often showed on his face. All the display of affection came under Nani’s profile, so even when he was aging and on his death bed, I probably had a feeling that he was on his usual right way. And I felt vindicated by this fact (even as a child I had heard many times) about the ‘Bhrigusamhita’ reading that this was his last birth and after his death he is to attain Nirvana.

Mummy had immediately left for Jhansi on hearing of his declining health, Bhaiya who was doing his MBA at Indore, rushed to Jhansi and could cater to Nana, I had my BSc. Exams happening soon and hence reached there for the Shanti Havan ,only after Nana’s demise. I tried giving emotional support to Mummy. But other than that, it was all ritualistic. I was supportive, prudent, clear-headed….. but probably had missed on the remorse, love and the pain of his separation.

The dream last night- filled out this missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle on the top. And today is a BEAUTIFUL NEW MORNING, with lots of challenges, efforts, emotions and probably a fewer riddles.

Music of Bhaiya

The poetry recitations from bhaiya still echo in my ears. There was such a genuineness of expression, an inherent feeling of honesty in pursuit of expressing each emotion a phrase brought in. When he loudly stated ‘Patriotism. By Sir Walter Scotttttt!!’, there was an air of indignation – that matched that of a frustrated lawyer of a bollywood movie who would thump his fist and the table would shatter. And then the opening lines ‘Breathes THEERE the MAAN with soul so DEAD who ne’er to himself hath said’ was like a lion roar. And suddenly the following line seemed like a kitten purr ‘This is my own my native land’ and again the voice waxed to a roar ‘Whose hath had ne’er within him BURN’. The highs and lows altered throughout the poem until the finally the dictum came up ‘Living shall forfeit fair renoun and DOUBLY DYING SHALL GO DOWN UNHEARD, UNHONOURED AND UNSUNG!!

The other poem which he loudly recited is a favourite, because his recitation makes it even more rhythmic , jumpy and peppy. It is
Tiger, Tiger Burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry ( this line is a sorry break)

What the anvil, what the chain
In what furnace was thy brain
Da-da –da-da daaa
Da- da- da- daa daaa
And ofcourse then there was O Captain ! My Captain our fearful trip is done…
I have a smile as I remember the parabolic eyebrows when he says with all grave concern and surprise ‘O Captain My Captain ??!!??’

There was another poem-the words totally obliterated, but not the concern it carried about how India was once so prosperous and now it was like a hallow tree, deprived of its riches. And the topping of it was that it was written by a Britisher!

Yet not everything about Bhaiya’s recitation was loud or concerning. I would never have the poem’s appreciations until I had heard these lines from Bhaiya ‘ … And all that is best of day and night meet in the and her aaayeees. It seemed that by some amalgamation, all the night and brightness do blend into her aayeees

Hindi poems too had its fervour. Yadi Hota Kinnar Naresh Main – Raaj Mahal mein Rehta, Soney ka Singhasan hota Sarr pe Mukut Chamakta . ( Guess we still don’t know what is a Kinnar). And then from Class One- ‘Amma zara dekh to bahar ………. Deekh raha hai Jal hi Jal’ And how can I forget the highly sanskritised “HImadri tung shringg se prabudhh shudhh bharti, svayam prabha svamujjalla swantantra pukarti. Amartya Veer putra ho – Dridh sakalp soch lo, Prashathh veer panth pe Badhe Chalo Badhe Chalo

His recitations are as a special as he would say in his own ‘Mahendra Kapoor’s’ voice ke ‘PHOOOOLOOOOOOOW ki teraah kitaaab mein SaJAAAAYEEEEe hue rakhnaAAAA’

The speed

As I was looking at my two year old sleeping besides me- my mind drifted as many years it could – to retrace my own image as a baby. And to remember being cradled in my father’s arms, or a faceless ‘badi dadi’ always silently lying on her bed, who would offer me homeopathic medicine as I approached her, or the image of dry chilbils that were in true sense a treasure ; the constant sounds of familiar people who are now either too frail or not there at all; the excitement of the doll house in Primary School: Such images are revolting. For the moment you go so deep in past that the sheer depth is scary. It’s like a fun ride in a theme park and suddenly you realise that you’re all alone in it.
I had a tear in my eye to which I was thankful. Life has run just so fast and I was so unaware of it- It’s a perfect rip-off!
However as practicality would have it, sanity dawned to me soon. I am very much part of my life and there was no way I could see myself growing up. And that’s where the little baby so divinely sleeping completes the picture. Life after all, had given me this chance to enjoy its speed; I enjoyed her random babblings, first words (amma amma), first sentences(Ye ta aye), first poetry (twinkle twinkle little star)and I will equally enjoy all her arguments and disagreements she would have with me.