Baji
My Dadi was very fashionable,well… not really, but that’s what she used to think. She always had the latest hairclips, nail polish, hairbands and was a prized customer of neighbourhood cosmetics shops. She never wanted us to call her “Dadi”, it made her feel old, hence came “Ba-ji”. My baba(grandfather) was not particularly fond of her escapades and used to get angry when he, more often than not, belatedly knew about it.
Phantoming in and out of mohalla households, bringing in the latest scoop like a seasoned warrior, Baji was a kalyug avatar of Narada in her hey days. Her energy levels sky rocketed when there was an event of any kind in our mohalla. Though Baba used to claim, his anger was because , it was morally wrong to do so, I did smell a sense of genuine insecurity.
If she was not doing well( she is asthmatic and a hypochondriac), chair was brought up in verandah, a vantage position to keep an eye on every passing person on the arterial road(there was only one the locality we lived). Many of the passerby stopped and greeted her. Information was exchanged , new daughter in laws were appraised and enquiry was made about their expected delivery dates. Pearls of wisdom was extended, if the reply was sorrowful.
At one such lazy winter afternoon I was her company. She was massaging my head, I was blissfully unaware of what was about to come. Right across our boundary walls my father’s cousin used to live along with her fairly large family. Their eldest son Amit had a love marriage in Bombay and it was “the Scandal” of my pre teens years. Amit’s younger brother Sumit had recently visited him in Bombay. He along with his family,was enjoying the winter sun on terrace.
Baji, was telling me , after staying in Pune for so long I have become too self centred and did not care about how my extended (read stretched) family was doing, being a elder brother and having a job, it was my duty to guide every junior. She egged me to call Sumit where we were sitting and have a big brotherly talk . I was quite reluctant to do it, but did not want her soft, wrinkling hands to stop massaging. I tilted my head at fourty five ,shading my eyes with my hands ,gave a forced smile, waved at everyone on the terrace. Eight happy faces stared back at me,eager to strike a conversation. Instantly feeling good, I gave a smirk( I had started using flights for my vacation travels, may be they knew about it)
“Come down, lets have tea together..”, I said , suddenly feeling ready to wear the burden of responsibility. Those smiling faces turned circumspect, probably they were more aware of wiles of my grandmother than me. But still Sumit came down from his terrace.
“ How’s the campus placement in your college, are you going to study further or start working?”
“ It’s ok-ok bhaiya, If I get a CGPA of 7, chances of getting a job are high. I don’t want to study further, I will take up the first job offer I get”
“Don’t worry if you don’t get it, Babu will find a place for you in his company” Baji curtly chipped in. I started wondering what if somebody actually gave my reference , probably he wont be even allowed to appear for the interview.I made a mental note of smiling and talking politely to the HR whenever I met him next.
“Leave all this , tell me how is your sister in law in Bombay? what did she cook for you? did she take good care of you?”
Sumit gave a look of sad acceptance of situation, I suddenly realized , he had inkling about being ambushed, I felt used and dirty.
“She took good care of me, she used to cook in the night, in the morning Amit bhaiya and I prepared the meals. Bhabhi used to go to office in morning”
“Ram Ram, men cooking when a woman is present in the house, why could not she prepare meal before leaving for work, see that is why I used to tell your mom, don’t send your kids to places like Mumbai, they forget their culture. What caste is she, must be fisherwoman, most of the people in coastal cities are that, I know, I have been to Rameswaram”
I was shocked, looked at her with a mix of anger and amusement, signalled Sumit to exit. After he left, I asked “ I am in Pune, are you not afraid I will have a love marriage too” , she looked at me lovingly , her fingers had not stopped caressing my head all this while, then she spoke snapping like a broken piano “ What’s there in arranged marriage, look at your grandfather and me, he has his two feet’s dangling in grave, but still won’t stop controlling me, I am like a bird, I want to hop from one courtyard to another , share in everyone’s sorrow and happiness.
A sudden realization dawned, I muttered “ That is why they named it Twitter”..
“What are you saying, am I a Teeter! ?”
“Not to you Baji, but tell me what will you tell all these mohalla wallahs, if they ask about me”
“Its none of their business, I am not a conservative like your mom and dad, but make sure if you are having a love marriage , bride is beautiful, otherwise what’s the point, you already are what you are , at least my great grandson will have a chance of looking good”
I was hurt, but then I thought of Sumit and soldiered along, soaking the dappled sun and checking my twitter feed.
