A place where I belong

Her place is so lethargic...but deep down in my heart, I love that lethargy once in a year. There's no noise to wake me up. only sounds of cuckoo, cows or a cycle horn. Only when the sun rises to its full might, that the light starts troubling me. She gets up early in the morning to feed the pigeons followed by strolls on the terrace. You can see her when she turns around. That's when we run up to her and listen all those stories which develop in our absence. The place where she used to feed the pigeons is now taken over by the court, 'cos the owner could not pay the bank rent. But she says, she won't stop till the new family comes and stays there. We hear azaan by then, there is a charm of this chant and i fell to its hypnotism each time those words fell to my ears. She asks us not to stand near the paraphet, or else we might fall. And being girls, we obey her unlike the boys; she then finally closes the terrace and we follow her downstairs. The door is very traditional and it’s not possible for us to unlock it by ourselves, so mornings are an opportunity to sneak in the door when it’s left ajar by her.

Earlier she used to go for walks, but now her weak legs can't afford her this luxury. (though walks have never been a luxury to me on the cost of dear sleep)But back then, we were always asked to promise to wake up early and accompany her. After breaking 2-3 promises, we used to keep them. Even after all this, we use to insist her to return in tonga (horse cart)All this is followed by a royal bath. According to her, the water being saline, we should bathe with the rain water collected in the underground tank / well. She then assures us of healthy hair and glowing skin. Breakfasts on the open lobby is indeed a welcome thing. Dry chapattis and achaar (pickle) with bhujia keeps our tongue rolling. Plus the sparrow which feeds with us, from our plates is a welcome gesture. I used to wait for the traditional sweets to arrive. I love to go for shopping in the market.

The market is in and around the place where we stayed. The small lanes and staring eyes made it a mysterious lot. I like to go the sabzi mandi (grocery) tempted by the orange candies there. Then the shopping for bandhanis (tie-n-dye) suit pieces which are my favorite ones. But she never allows us to go to market alone. We are always accompanied by Ramu Kaka, so that people respect us knowing the family we come from. I love gathering for lunch in the dining room with a television and after the heavy gulping, the calm afternoon siesta. Tea, rose milkshakes and fruits for evening with my cousins is the best thing. Better than this, I love when she opens her ancient chest. There is something or the other which I find useful each time. She creates a mystery factor before opening it and I love it.

The evenings are made melodious with bhajans and kirtans. She is not good at singing though I like her chanting. We kids then play dark rooms (a game) in uncle's room. She asks us not to damage his belongings placed in the showcase. After dinner, we chat while she oils my hair or sometimes trims them herself. She teaches us all those things which mom forgets to teach us.

It’s been years I went to that place due to higher studies, job etc. And I think will never be able to enjoy all those moments too as she now lives in the city near my place. There will be lethargic mornings, but not in her lap. And azaans have lost in the din and bustle of the city. The sparrows come to meet us but through the iron bars in our gallery. She still has her mystery cupboard but it is all open, not as huge as earlier one. She chants the bhajans, no doubt, but in the backdrop of television noise. All this will never be the same. She has not changed, but the circumstances have changed. She is the same old nanny but the spirit of the place has changed.