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| Friday, December 8, 2006 |
| Where the tree has no leaves! |
Today, I decided to bring in my christmas tree (or what passes for it!) into the house. My tree is not much to look at: it's around 6 feet tall, lanky, slightly dishevelled, and has a slight tilt to the right. I bought it in Bombay because I just did not want a fake tree in the house. I knew that it was impossible to find a bough of a fir or pine tree in Bombay so I bought one that had the general shape of a christmas tree. I trimmed it and tried to fix its right tilt, but no, it refused to stand straight. I have given up trying to fix its tilt: I rather like its unkempt, crooked look.
When I moved to Delhi, the kinder, unselfish, responsible thing to do would have been to plant my tree in the garden below our house. But, no, I had to cart the poor tree all the way to Delhi. The movers and packers delivered it slightly worse for the wear. Its top branch was slightly singed maybe because it was exposed to the hot Delhi sun but otherwise it was still my dear, teda tree.
It had grown a bit, so I transplanted it in a new, bigger pot. But the Delhi winter doesn't seem to be doing it any good. It seems to be shedding leaves at quite a scorching pace. So my lanky, dishevelled, teda tree is also getting a little bare. And very soon, I suspect, I shall not have much of a christmas tree left. But, I still don't feel like getting a fake one or another real one. So, I am going to gussy this one up as well as I can and maybe start a tradition of teda trees in my family! Will post pictures of the crooked one soon. |
| posted by Jivitha @ 2:42 AM |
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| Wednesday, December 6, 2006 |
| My St. Nicholas |
Christmas is drawing near and I can't help but think of Nicholas uncle, or Aan (father), as we called him in Konkani. He was old enough to be my grandfather: a sprightly man, with fantastically high cheekbones, and a booming, baritone voice. Ever since he had retired, he moonlighted as a bartender in Delhi's Hotel Diplomat because he loved being with people, listening to their stories, telling a few of his own.
He would visit our family often and impromtu parties would happen whenever he walked in. Bring out the cake, let's have a drink, sing me a song, let's have fun, he seemed to say with every breath.
I was six and he must have been 65 or so, the year my father died. I stopped talking that year...I remember dreading 6 PM every day, because that was the time my father would come home. Sick of watching me walk around listlessly, Aan decided to take matters into his own hands. He would pop in every other day with interesting stuff that kids love and very few adults are smart enough to know: old glittery christmas cards, bus tickets, funny gags. He was never kind in the unctuous way grown-ups usually are. Mostly, he would order me gruffly to stop moping and get on with it.
But the best memory of Aan I have is that of a magicky christmas night that year. He took me to the Goan club where a dance party was on. Handsome men and lovely women dancing with grace. There was Rego, such a brilliant dancer, dancing with Nica (Veronica) pretty as a picture. I have this clear memory of craning my neck to look at all these beautiful people with awe.
I must have been the only child there or if there were others I don't remember. I had never been to a club and I was absorbing everything like a sponge. Then, Aan took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Everyone cleared the dance floor and clapped in time to the music as the old man and the little girl twirled around the dance floor.
Then, it was getting late so we left for home, that is Aan was going to drop me home in a cab where my mother would be waiting hopping mad, no doubt. :) Aan was pleasantly high and insisted on singing christmas carols at the top of his voice all the way back home. He was weaving across the road (still bellowing!) so I held his hand and took him home, feeling so grown up.
Aan died a few years later. I am sure he touched many lives and gave them joy in that effortless way of his. And I can bet he is having a big party right now, wherever he may be.Labels: childhood |
| posted by Jivitha @ 11:58 PM |
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| Eclipse afternoons |
Anybody who has lived in delhi some twenty years ago would remember how DD would show funny movies in the afternoon, every time there was a solar eclipse. For me, solar eclipses are inextricably linked with Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Chupke Chupke for that reason alone. DD would show entertaining movies so that people would stay inside their houses during an eclipse. One cannot imagine pulling off something like this in today's day and age. With so many channels how could any one channel have any power over viewers?
Nevertheless, I feel rather emotional when I look back on the innocence of those times. I was in school then and I remember those summer eclipse afternoons when houses would be completely shaded. We would sit and watch the movie and drink thanda nimboo pani. During the samachaar break, some friends and I would try to make telescopes and spectacles that would allow us to look at the sun indirectly without going blind. I remember trying to use old x-ray paper. I have no idea if that was safe or not but since my eyes seem to have survived those adventures, I am inclined to think it wasn't such a bad idea!Labels: culture, solar eclipse |
| posted by Jivitha @ 10:13 PM |
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