Old And New

Old And New

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Atharva danced around the house and suddenly dashed for the garden out of nowhere. I jumped from my place and just about managed to put my arms around his waist to prevent a 2-foot jump that he was going to attempt, something Herculean for a boy of age 4. Something fell from his hands and when I jumped down to get it, notorious 3-year-old Virat asked if he could do it as well.  "Virat, no!" his mother had to shout before he would have tried that and probably would have incurred an injury he would have shown to every friend with pride in his Bangalore day-care centre. Just then, my sister, The Menace, emerged from the background carrying Virat's not-even-an-year-old sis, Sarah, in her hands trying to balance her in every way possible, before I took her from her hands and before she could fall down. As if that wasn't enough, another couple of my cousins, Avani and Vikram(who is Vetal in every aspect at the age of 4), emerged from an Uber just across the road. To be honest, I started to wonder if I could retire from the Post of Cousin at the age of 14. Then came my salvation, Aditi, who is another of my cousins and is the only one older than me, who are not adults. Also with her came Tara, another of my cousins I call 'The Hugger'. Confused? Welcome to my world! No, specifically saying, welcome to 83, Mitramandal Colony, Parvati, Pune, 411030. It is just a two story bungalow with 4 flats, 8 rooms and about few thousand feet carpet area. But it is not just that. There's much more to it.
                                                               
                                                                   It is a meeting place for 10 of us cousins, in which all of us have met only once, but have been there singularly quite often. There is a big garden with 20-30 feet tall Ashoka and Champa trees, and the ancestral house of about what is now a family of 40 people. It is not only that but a house where something in us finds a sanctuary; what, I haven't found out now. Oh, my God, Vikram is jumping out of the window, and Virat is eating mud. 

                                                              "Wow Balam, this small garden of yours does look nice ha!" said Sudha Aji in her old but still melodious voice as she appreciated the small garden created by her smallest brother, Suryakant aka Balam after his retirement. A pretty arrangement of a concentric pots donned with extremely beautiful flowers and a small plantation of lettuce at one side. I was sitting down there near the garden on the ground floor with my granddad, Suresh, Balam Aba, Sudha Aji and the wife of the late oldest brother of them, Chandrashekhar. Probably meeting together in this place after many-many years, all of them exchanged old memories and memoirs of their grandsons and granddaughters, while munching on flour biscuits from the nearby bakery and hot,steaming tea with quite a lot of ginger in it. I just looked relaxed as the surroundings, the cool air, the steaming tea and the conversations of all of these people around me. Suddenly, I catch a sentence from the dialogue of Sudha Aji, where she says, " Oh, no, no. It happened as late as 2009-10." I just couldn't help smiling. I recalled an incident from before where me and my friend back home were discussing about how the last five days had affected the world, and here, they are speaking of something 7-8 years ago. After they leave, something comes to my mind. A beautiful thought and an answer.

                                                               Just about some months ago, we cousins were playing in this same house like we never would have in our house or even in a playground. Then these grandmas and grannies were talking, more openly than they ever would have in their houses. This house has something, which activates a specific part of our body. Many great artists say that when they perform on a great stage, melodies played there before ring in their minds. Like that, this house makes old memories ring in our minds; old, sweet and cherish able.If you have one like this, cherish it and keep it as it is. Don't let it be overridden by the greed for money and the ever-growing forest of concrete. Oh, yeah. Before, I had told you that I don't know an answer. Then I told you I had one. It is not the brain, not the memory, but the soul.

                                                                              - Miheer Karandikar