Nani's Place

She was not my real nani, but then the only one I knew of. Every time during the summer vacations when we went to visit relatives I insisted on staying with her only. More often than not it led to angry confrontations between me and my parents but then in the end I did get to spend a larger part of time with her. She on her part did not mind having me around and would indulge me to the point of illness with guavas, mangoes, jalebi,samosas and you-name-it-I-have-it.Typical grandparent behaviour. Nana was also there but he wasn't really a part of the show...to me he was either angry or doing weird exercises on the rooftop or reading newspaper and if nothing else sitting on one of the sofas one hand rubbing his naked belly in circles while the eyes scanned the empty air. In contrast, Nani was the active one...giving me all the attention I wanted. The best thing I liked about her was her personality...tall, broad and strongly built - the kind who never played it sick with this pain and that. Rather she would bounce me on her knees or carry me on her shoulders. Complementing that look was a strong voice and jet black hair. When she spoke it seemed everyone stopped to listen.

Isn't that amazing that things often appear larger than life when we are kids? Ditto with Nani's house...to my eyes it had all possible "locations" that she weaved in those fairy tales-the busy street (visible from the living room balcony) which to me was the Silk route of the traders and their tired mules, the quiet garden with its mossy corners where the pixies lived and princess walked and a storage room with 10 watt bulb that was the hideout of the robbers. Frequent electric cuts made it all the more fun to play hide and seek or to lie under the stars on summer nights. The house had a thousand different corners to explore...the roof top (which could be climbed using a wooden ladder) to pluck flowers, the balcony in the bed room (from which the neighboring cow shed was visible) where I would spend hours watching the animals and there owners, inhaling the peculiar musk of fresh milk and even fresher dung, the puja room...which had a collection of deities (close to 300) collected from over a lifetime. I would sit in Nani's lap as she prayed, mumbling something incomprehensible all the while trying to figure out if any of the God's smiled or changed expression (at that time Gods to me were as real as humans) -especially when Nani made offerings to them. Not to forget the ancient toilets- which had zillions of cobwebs and huge spiders. This meant that I would never be bored - I could watch the fights and the mating rituals and dream about the intricate web of life while attending the nature's call.

Time passed like magic...I was in my teens and too shy or too lazy or had too much of that "I dont care" attitude to visit my relatives. Books were the only thing I cared about and that made everything else take a backseat including the vacations with Nani. It was only when I had passed my 12th and had got admitted to the college in the same city in which Nani lived did I realise that I hadnt been there in years. Everything at Nani's place looked the same - if you discount the extra layers of dust that had settled around, thanks to the woes of the extra years that Nani & Nana had put on. By chance the hostel allotment was supposed to happen 3 months after the classes began and when questioned about my preference to stay I opted for Nani's place....my personal Disney land.

But things seemed different now. The same road that had been the Silk Route seemed full of potholes and crowded. The house and the toilets looked dirty and the beloved gods were bothersome- I could not even look at the puja room without being thoroughly cleansed. If I used the toilet it meant I had to take a bath again, no matter what. The electricity cuts brought out the mosquitoes and that hampered with my assignments. Nani's health was failing but then all that muscle has now become sagging fat. The only thing that remained the same was her voice...and more often than not I found it to be complaining about something trivial - the strong voice that in my memories "everyone stopped to listen" now gave the effect of screeching. Nana on his part remained much the same. He could no longer exercise but that meant he had more time to rub his belly and scan the past and the future, even as Nani screamed and shouted about the unfairness of life. The old habit of indulging me with food was also there but then I had grown out of it. I hated anything sweet plus was on a serious weight loss spree. Nani did not understand this obsession to be thin and it did not help in any way. After about two weeks or so of "trying to understand each other" we both gave it up...confining ourselves to our rooms, lives and routines. It was good that they watched the news during dinner for it took away the need to make any kind of small talk.

I was more than relieved when time came to shift to the hostel. When my parents enquired if I had'nt been upto much of mischief all that Nani said was..."it seemed like she was staying in some hotel and we were some strangers." Guess that said it all about the transition from childhood into adulthood.