I can see all the desi ears prop up. Partly, because of the unusual title; and partly, because all of us have heard some version of this statement. May be at a family gathering, munching on Good Day biscuits and sipping on small cups of Taj Mahal tea. Or in a pre-nuptial-bride-skill-display ceremony on a fine Sunday morning. Or mostly when a chirpy neighbor dropped over at your house for a bowl of yogurt and began weaving tales of gossip.
At some point in time, we were always astounded by the fact that people had such strong memories of seemingly long connections. We dismissed the idea of relegating such facts to our memory, for the elusive belief that we had much more "practical" fodder for our braincells.
However sophisticated we may seem than our predecessors, our inherent human urge to gossip, or socialize for the jittery, remained unfulfilled and found its vent in the social networks which we so dearly use. "Meri chacheri behen ke maasi ka pota" simply got effaced by "Me>Chacha>beti>maasi>pota". News Feed replaced word-of-mouth gossip, and Wall Photos & Videos took over the effervescent, detailed descriptions of chewy acts. They may be besotted by the colorful life of fillum stars keeping accounts of which star remarried whom, who rejected whom, and who threw a fit on the sets. But so do we leech from Celebrity pages and websites dedicated for the single purpose of cashing in on the innate human desire to invade the private lives of others.
Technology brought edification, but we still remain the friendly neighborhood gossip-mongers at heart...
The Ant Circus:
It was a seasonal affair, organized with much gusto. The first rain always managed to flood the tiny homes of the black ants and they came out from all crevices in the courtyard with swift agility. There were always these half-an-inch deep puddles which made an ideal base to set up the circus. All he needed were construction materials: bricks, stones and bridges. Four or five thick crumbling red bricks formed the stead posts with smaller stones forming intermidiate landings. These were connected by thin greenish brown tender branches which could be twisted to archways or just laid on the two platforms. Some had one of their ends dipped in water for the lucky few swimmers. He took the bigger branches and went in search of his performers: Ants and centipedes. Paper helped a lot. Scrapping a few slow ones, he dropped them off on a brick or plainly in water till they swam to the nearest brick post and joined the fray. Up a stick, around an arch, down the slope they went trying to find a way out of this small island. Some swinging branches made pretty sights when wind blew them and the ant managed to hold it for its dear tiny life. But there were some bold ones that jumped in the water, and swam to the shore. They were left alone. Winners deserve their share of success, dont they? Losers, well, they were stuck in this illusory world till the water around them dried up to make way or worse, were washed out with the next spate of heavy rain.
The Dog Naming ceremony:
Strays are an integral part of Indian streets, be it dogs or humans. But the former always found refuge in some child’s arms if it played its “cute-puppy-wags-his-tail” role well enough. He and his gang had adopted 4 such strays. And it was time to name them. So they gathered in a small park and sat in a circle. He picked up the first puppy and held it in his two outstretched arms. The poor creature rolled and licked with anticipation. He kept it on the next child’s palms and so it went on. Three rounds down, the pup was named “Pinku”. Pitoosh, Blackie, Rocky followed suit.
The Three Eye:
He and his two friends, formed the ‘Three Eye’ Investigator Agency. They had their headquarters, set up on the terrace: SAP1, the water tank: SAP2; SAP being the initials of the trio. They had a small pouch with all the emergency stuff packed in. Lemon Juice in Eardrop bottle, for invisible ink. Chilli powder in a Vicks bottle, for attackers. Small pieces of paper. Pen. They also devised a new secret language. Mirror image numerals. They wrote letters to each other, smirking furiously when some outsider tried to decipher it. They followed strange men on street to their houses, till they were sure that the person had no evil intention in his mind. Yes, it was always “his”. They learnt some smart moves too, like pinching the offender on his softest spot on the body with fingernails, kicking him in the shins. They learnt to cry out “Fire” instead of “Help” when in trouble. They read somewhere that it sounds more believable and urgent. If only the RAW found out about the budding agents in their tow, the engineering community wouldn’t have had to sufferfrom the burden, would it?
Ganesh Chaturthi celebration:
The mandap: 3 pieces of cardboards torn out of old notebooks arranged against the wall in the corner. The floor wearing the carpet of small green gulmohar tree leaves. A soapcase for the pandal/stage. A small lamp at the side with a grandma-made cotton wick wet with oil. A small halad/kunku kundi with rice grains for the ritual.
The idol: A small black stoned, intricately carved Ganesh idol with a self-made bead garland around the neck.
The procession: A small chariot emptied of its tea lids, and holding the Ganesh idol, making its way from the bedroom to the hall patio. Revelers, he and his brother, prancing and dancing around the chariot, much to the amusement of his folks, and nudging it ahead after every song.
The ritual: Prayers offered with much gusto with traditional kunku tilak on forehead of Ganesha. Coarse grained sugar in a small bowl as prasad. Rice grains sprinkled on the idol as akshada. Small white and red flowers adorning the idol and stage. The lamp lighting up the small mandap and oiled everyday for 10 days in a row.
The immersion: A small bucket filled with water, or better, a 1 X 1 feet blue colored square to act as the pond. The same procession carrying the idol to the ‘pond’ and immersed 3 times with shouts of ‘Jai Ganesha’. The idol safely washed and rubbed and kept in the showcase, to be taken out once again, the following year.
