Ma is the best

'Maavu poothu (Mango is in flower),' said Aji to Shreya, inducting her to Malayalam alphabets. Sure enough, the mango in the housing society is dressed in white flowers and that in January. 'Will all these flowers turn Alphonsos,' asked Shreya, a delighter of Alphonsos. Aji was not sure on fruiting and Alphonso mangos; she confessed to not knowing. 'Kya Aji,' said Shreya as the flowery tang took the air and impressed. The mango tree has been there before the society was built; in some insane compassion, the builder did not think of hacking the mango tree; it should be more than 23 years old - the time Aji knows and pats her; starting on her morning walk, Aji pranams the mango; some years, the mango fruits juicy, some years quiet. At the new housing society Shreya has no mango or coconut for company; yes, a fresh green jack fruit near the gate enjoys life. From the eight floor apartment, Shreya and Chiyu watch the heads of coconut trees, like tops of open umbrellas, in the compounds of St. Francis engineering college. Aji is into a Malayalam primer and for Shreya it will be her fourth language: English, Marathi, Hindi and Malayalam. Shreya took Aji to times when mangos and coconuts were commoners at homes; they were always there, unmissed; may not be any more with coconuts dubbed grass. But the language Shreya enjoys is Bengali; 'sundar aur thanda hai,' she tells Ajoba; at the new housing society, Shreya and Chiyu have a Bengali friend, Lakshita; her parents call her Lokki as Bengalis are prone to; Lokki speaks more Hindi than Bengali. Mother tongues are something like Mother foods; for every child Ma is the best cook; deserves a Padma Shri like chef Imtiaz Qureshi, a first happening. Aji makes dal and rice in the manner of mother Dakhi; but Dakhi's dal and rice have a flavour Aji has not, upsetting Aji; but for dosas and chutneys, Aji has to take the auto to their kitchen; all goes for Chiyu -- from fish to crabs, to vetta kuzhambu and sambhar; she prefers Aji for an extra helping of affection as the old lady feeds her - a story going with feeding fingers. Seemed like shots from Natsamrat -- Nana Patekar coddling grand daughter Chimni -- singing for her, teaching her abuses, carrying her on his back ...and then being taken away..... Vikram Gokhale as friend of Nana Patekar wins me applause, he always does; Nana is served overcooked and loud; he professors, makes students of viewers; and most importantly, the film needs editing; it should have stopped with Nana losing his wife (or much earlier) as there is nothing left to say. But Mahesh Manjrekar goes on and on till putting to rest Nana and the audience. 'Khinchtha hai,' remarked Dakhi and Shreya while Chiyu went to sleep; when Aji tumbled over bouncy Marathi of Nana, Shreya helped her up; no tears were shed. Sometimes wonder why our films are noisy; emotions never brief; acting Gokhale crisp.