#100sareepact Day51
This one I wore for a dinner at home last Saturday. It is printed chiffon in a lovely soft blue grey, gifted by my Maasi ( mother’s sister), one of the loveliest and bravest people I know.
Maasi was just 5 years old when my parents got married and my father often joked she was the daughter he received in dowry!
We visited my maternal grandparents at least twice a year during the summer and winter school holidays and so we were thrown together a lot. I don’t remember we were very great friends, in fact we fought a lot! I found her bossy and I think she found me a bit amusing. Nevertheless, I loved being in Agra during the hols. Lots of cousins would be there and we often went for outings to the Taj, Fatehpur Sikri or Sikandra. Such freedom…we could have the radio on all day and listen to Hindi film songs, a big no-no in our house. And…we could even go watch Hindi movies! Maasi’s favourite movies, actors and songs were my favourites too!
After lunch in the summer hols, the floors in the entire house were washed to cool it. Often there were power cuts, but who cared? We played cards during the afternoon and then my Nana would draw a lottery with toffees as the prize. He also asked us mathematical puzzles to be solved in our heads, without using paper or pencil. The prize – a toffee, of course! In the evenings, as the sun set, we had to spray water on the terrace and lay out the cots and mattresses with clean white sheets and pillows, for we all slept on the roof, under the stars. Like the Gulzaar song…
” …Thandi safed chaadaron par jaagein der tak
Taaron ko ginte rahein, chhat par pade hue…”
Once, I remember, we went and saw ‘Madhumati’, a movie where the murdered heroine’s ghost was seen on the stairs, beckoning and luring people to the roof and to their eventual death. I was terrified of going upstairs to the roof on my own, but didn’t want to tell anyone why. Mummy was very strict about not being afraid of anything and would demand, “Fear? What is fear? Where is fear? Show me, I’ll tell you how to deal with fear!” So, I pretended to be unwell to avoid the chore.
We had a burglar visiting us or a neighbour at least once every month. My first and only visit to a police station was as a seven-year old, with my Nanaji, to deposit a bicycle and a pair of slippers a visiting burglar left behind in the front verandah when our Alsatian attacked him. The police refused to register any case, because nothing had been stolen. Another time, we were woken up by the pet parrot, who was in his cage downstairs, singing a loud welcome to the visiting burglar, ” Aaiye, aaiye, baithiye, baithiye!” Again, the poor burglar’s visit was in vain and he had to leave without anything to show for his trouble.
So many, many stories…
“Dil dhoondta hai, phir wahi, fursat ke raat din…”
One of the pics in the collage is my mother just after her wedding, with her little sis, my beloved Maasi.