I was born and brought up in a chawl in the suburbs of mumbai. Nani gave me my first pet name. Nani, our land lady was a muslim widow and had lost her husband early in her life and had no children. Nature didn’t stop at taking away people from her life but also took her eyesight. She stayed alone and her relatives who stayed nearby used to send her lunch and dinner packed in a dabba. She made it a point every single day to share her food with me. It comprised mostly of bheja and kalegi. I just loved the food. She used to wait for me till I came back from school to share her lunch with me. I sat on her lap and she told me stories. Her stories never repeated. She was my first book of panchtantra. Whenever she heard my mom scolding or beating me (yes, parents were allowed to hit their child in those days), she used to scold my mother. She called me ‘Munna’. Even now when I go to a restaurant, if there is a bheja on the menu, I will always order it. Even when there is no bheja fry on the menu, I still ask the waiter if there is one available. Maybe I am still looking for the taste of that bheja fry.
When nani passed away, I was inconsolable. I remember crying for days. It was the first funeral and first major loss I witnessed in my life.
Just next to us, in that chawl lived a Maharashtrian family. If you have spent some time in a chawl you would know that the doors where never closed except when it was time to sleep. I wandered from one house to other and naturally I used to have food in those households. Mothers those days didn’t have to worry if their kids had eaten or not. ‘Halegar kaku’, is what I use to call the lady of the house. She was a very beautiful kind hearted woman. I remember the sound of the green bangles she wore. I loved the mutton curry she used to make. That taste is just unmatchable. She also made a special curry along with the puranpoli called ‘katachi amti’. I just loved it. She had taken care of my mom when she came to the chawl as a newly married. She helped her set up the house and family.
I lost her to cancer a year back. When I went to see her, she was back from a chemo and very weak and bed ridden. I told her, kaku I will come next week and get mutton, you have to make me that mutton rassa. She had a smile on her face. She passed away a week later.
I didn’t got an opportunity to spend much time with my paternal grandfather. But when he settled with us after quitting his job, it was fun to be with him. I used to sleep on his stomach and he told me stories. His stories consisted mostly of his childhood memories, of his part in the freedom struggle of India, of ghosts and so on. He got me medu wada very single day from a nearby Udupi outlet. My first choice of breakfast even today remains medu wada. He was a charming man. His fluency in English, his ability to read hands and his uncanny way of telling stories made him a charmer and a centre of attraction wherever he went. He used to call me ‘Gundya’.
My maternal aunt, Yamuna maushi, has always been around for me and my family. When my paternal grandfather was admitted, she took care of me. Both my parents had to be in the hospital as my grandfather was on dialysis for few months before we lost him. During that time Yamuna maushi was with me. She couldn’t cook properly, but she made it a point that I always had something to eat. Even today whenever there is a problem she is around.
My maternal grandmother ‘Gulabi’. I call her ‘aai’ because everyone around called her that and I have spent most of my childhood with her. Whenever I am upset and she is around, she just senses it. I don’t have to tell her anything. She is an excellent cook. Even now when I go to visit her, a simple menu of curry and rice made by her is divine. She always somehow has the dosa batter at her place. When I go I have dosa made by her till the last drop of the batter remains in that utensil. She is very happy to feed people.
My maternal uncle, Raju mama. ‘Rao’ his friends called him that and he was known in the locality by Rao seth. He was a kind hearted man and truly a ‘seth’ when it came to heart. We didn’t speak much, there was no expression of love but he was always there for me. Just by his presence he made me feel that he was there for me. I remember, as a kid, when I used to ask him for 5 rupees to have a wada pav with my friends, he always gave me a 50 rupees note. Even today my friends remember this. He was always there in good times and bad times for his family and friends. Whenever there was a death in the family or in the locality, he was the first person to arrive and take control of the situation. I lost him couple of years back, but even today I have been known as ‘Rao ka bhanja’ in his locality and I get respect because of him. It’s a pet name I treasure.
My another maternal aunt, Ranjana. I call her ‘Ranju maushi’. As a kid I was always with her. If she visited our house, I used to always sleep next to her. I don’t know why, but as a toddler, I always asked her to wash my bum. She works for Indian Navy, I remember as a kid she used to take me to her office. I have fond memories of plucking mangoes there, climb a fire brigade, looking at guns and watching men in uniform.
My parents have always been my strength. They have always supported me in bad times and with my whims and fancies. Yesterday, when the clock stuck 12, and it was onset of the mother’s day, I went into my parent’s bedroom and slept between them. I am sure it was a shock for them to see their 38year old son doing that. But I felt like doing so. I remember during my tenth grade exams whenever I used to get anxious before the exams, I use to do the same thing. My mom kept one hand on my chest and I had the best sleep yesterday. I don’t think even the best sleeping pill can match this.
There are many people that play a vital role in being there for you. Life is a collection of memories and nostalgia. Not only your parents; your relatives, your neighbours, your friends help you face life. They play the role of a ‘mother’ in your life. A Mother is not gender specific. It is not a designation and not bound my relation. It’s a role people play in your life.
I read it somewhere and quote
“Home is almost always a person more than a place. And for that very reason it almost always is not just one. So when you lose a home, there’s another waiting to open its arms.
Patience will get you there and hope will make you stay”
This Mother’s day, I salute the mother in you.
Happy Mother’s day.
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