Holi Musings

I left my very rewarding teaching job to tick off a few dream destinations on my bucket list. After traveling and trekking to one of the most exotic peaks and valleys of Uttarakhand, I settled to domesticity, watching classics on YouTube and a bit of community service. The Children's Library I was part of, conducted a Madhubani Storytelling and Coloring workshop for kids.  The guest artist told a mesmerizing story and handed out the Madhubani patterns printouts to kids to color. While helping the kids, I saw a chubby, quiet, and adorable child doing her work independently. What a picture of innocence and grace she was! I wished I were  her teacher in her school. 

Pic: Internet 

Just at the gate of the venue, I met an ex colleague Annie who was passing by. Knowing that I am not working anywhere, she firmly asked me to rejoin. She made me apply in the school. Next day itself I was requested to join, as one of the teachers was going on maternity leave. The next day I was shown my class. I was not used to teaching that age group, but 1B was the class that needed a class teacher, so reluctantly I entered the class. And guess who was sitting on the first row! Within 48 hours I was doing what I had just wished casually.

I taught her innumerable rhymes, taught her read, write, and perform on stage. She would always be my belief in miracles.

Holi always brings a bit of depression to me. As a child I have celebrated the most enjoyable Holi of North India. At the Police Headquarter campus in Allahabad I have heard and hummed Faag, the traditional folk songs and tasted thandai, a cooling drink, made with nuts, spices and milk. For elders bhaang was prepared by grinding it on a stone grinder. The whole campus celebrated Holi as a family.

 

In the most happening MKP college of Dehradun,  Holi meant songs and dance in the canteen, with the melodious singers and mesmerizing and captivating dancers dancing on the tables.  Now, after decades I can't expect to have the same ambiance. I miss those moments of fun, laughter and my dear ones.

 

Thanks to Ayush, a little student of mine who came home to wish me with handful of water-balloons. Those water-balloons took me straight to Allahabad/ Prayagraj. And I just thought if  it was possible that  I get to go to a place where I could play Holi of my childhood with colors, water and may be bhang wali thandai. I didn't deserve it as I didn't do anything to make it happen. I had an invitation and it was time to go. I dragged hubby from his Netflix show, promising that we'd be back within half an hour, then he could resume watching his show.

Our host's  huge garden was vibrant with spring at its peak. Sitting area was tastefully done up along with thoughtfully chosen snacks and drinks. After a while, when  we were about to leave, they took us to  the area which was so inviting with sprinklers , rain showers and music. While I was drenched in colored water, I wondered, is this what I was imagining just 30 minutes back?

Nowadays people call it affirmation! 

Trend Sweaters

My fatherly-father-in-law  passed away in 2011. We miss him everyday. His clothes,woollens and books were given away to suitable people by MiL. Few things still rested in our devdar /cedar wood

 box, which still emits  the scent of cedarwoods. The woollens he wore on the southern slopes of the Himalayas were of no use in the Gangetic plains where we reside now. But when Kanpur cold coincided with dense fog and chill, Mil took out the cream coloured sweater, which she had brought from Uttarkashi this summer. Everybody at home was delighted to inherit the heirloom which had the warmth and hugs of a person who annoyed noone in his whole lifetime.  

Like Cinderella's slipper, everyone at home tried the sweater. Ayush wore it, but couldn't move his hands as it was too stretched! Arushi and her cousins were too far off to try it. With my fingers crossed I slid my  head into the neckline and it fitted well.  Then slid the sleeves up close to my arms and adjusted. Lo! The sweater was on. 

Around 5 decades ago, MiL ordered some raw fleece from the bhotias settled in Harsil region of Uttarakhand. With the help a wool comb, she softened the wool and combed fibre was ready to spin.

Then with the help of charkha (spinning wheel)which she had borrowed from the City Inter College, and Takli (spindle) she produce three balls of the yarn . The three yarns then had to be twisted together to produce the wool ready to be knitted. Must have been a real task for her along with daily chores. Salute to her indeed! 

Our most precious heirloom is the memories of a saint, who was my FiL, the next best is the one I'm wearing.