Remembering Jadavpur summers.

It is 2.07 am and there is not a wink of sleep in my eyes. Now, I simply cannot waste my time trying to get any. Therefore I decide to pen down some thoughts.
Today, I had a short visit down the memory lane and it was such a joyful peregrination ! It all began with my husband discussing the idea of placing rocking chairs in a balcony. Suddenly I was full of  beans describing a set of easy chairs that my grandfather possessed. They were folding wooden chairs with long handles and modest fabric seats. I was about seven years old then. My maternal  grandfather's home had a fairly big backyard with a disheveled  garden. Although the garden did not seem very impressive, it was a  treasure- trove of flowers and fruits.  Barka, my mother's  uncle took care of it and the plants grew in the same haphazard fashion as his hair and beard!

The backyard lay behind Thami's room. Thami- our great grandmother, lived  a hundred and four years. Her room was flanked by doors and  windows overlooking the garden. The only pieces of furniture in this  room were a bed and a Godrej steel cupboard. Yes, there was an inconspicuous  wooden  wall- cupboard too which stacked Dadu's homeopathic medicines. The main  feature of this room was the idols and paintings of Gods and Goddesses  carefully placed on an intricately carved wooden asana. Beside it was a miniature bed  with a pretty mosquito net for the gods to sleep in. 
Next to this bed was a diminutive wooden cupboard. From here came out  a mélange  of jars and bottles containing sacred waters , sweetmeats,  cloths, incense sticks and other very interesting things.  This room was called the 'Thakur ghor'- the god's room - and God's room it was!  The mornings seemed heavenly here. Thami , in  a crisp, immaculate white sari, sat in front of the deities lost in her prayers, and the  white-gold sunshine streamed through the windows over the asana unto  the whitewashed walls, lighting up  the room. Thami's silky silver  hair sparkled under the sunshine and the white bedspread seemed even  whiter.

 'Didi', my grandmother got up at 4.30 every morning and 

plucked flowers for the prayers.  Kathgolap, bel phul , shiuli, 
aparajita, gaanda, there were so many ! Thami decorated these 
artistically on the asana and lit incense sticks . The fragrance of 
the flowers intermingled with that of the incense sticks disseminated 
through the entire house and it is to this scent,  that I awoke every 
morning!
  Often during the summer holidays Thami's room was our refuge from 
the inexorable heat. I do not know how, but her room was always so 
cool! On summer afternoons, Thami  squatted on the threshold 
overlooking the garden combing her glistening silver hair. In regular 
intervals she inspected the comb with utmost concentration. Alas, her 
scrutiny always ended up in vain. But her ceremonial combing continued 
for over an hour, if not more. I cherished the summer afternoons here. 
This was the time for our customary summer drink ' bael panna' ( made 
from wood apple ). Didi made delectable ' bael panna'! She poured this 
thick , sweet , golden hued drink into tall glasses and dunked a 
couple of ice cubes into each. My duty was to place them on a tray and 
carry it to Thami's room. How delightful it was to sip at the 
ambrosia, sitting on the cool cement floor of the 'thakur ghor'.  Four 
generations together- Thami, Didi, Ma and I sat there chatting and 
laughing!  Sometimes the dainty bael panna was replaced by a rubicund 
watermelon. Blackish green on the outside and deep red and sweet 
inside. Sweet was the company too and sweet were those days!

Another feature of the thakur ghor was the warm welcome. Thami always 
greeted us with a smile accompanied by words of affection and 
adulation. When she was not praying, she was reading detective novels.
 Dadu spent a lot of time in the thakur ghor. He prayed for  four 
hours a day- two hours before lunch and two hours before dinner! He 
sat on a stool engaged in serious conversation with god and often made 
hand gestures during these meetings.

  Coming back to Dadu's easy chairs, they were folded and kept behind 
a door adjacent to the thakur ghor. Often when the afternoon was 
pleasant, Dadu set them up in the garden after lunch. Here, he sat engrossed,
reading corpulent homeopathy books and I sat down beside him playfully 
decorating a cane stool with pink and white flowers. The loud chirping 
of birds, the strong fragrance of ripened mangoes, the frolicking 
florid butterflies, did nothing to disturb us. Only peace prevailed in 
the solitude of the unkempt garden as Dadu and I kept ourselves busy!
  It 's 4.08 am. Time to wind up. Should write more about those 
Kolkata summers some day. Till then... Ciao!