A blog to me is self-talk. With bread toast (surprisingly unburnt), Amul butter and filter kapi, settled in front of the window and the blog-chat began. Opened the computer for a blog which has a few good habits; sometimes it is read, liked, mostly by Kartik Iyer; mostly, unread; but blogging is a morning prayer, a Hanuman Chalisa on this Saturday morning. Rama is jamming the Sreevatsam family crowd in Bengaluru: Mythily, Hari, Rama and Mala. She could not ask for more from her Lord Ganesh; alone on Friday am getting used to do nothing but stand and stare; did not Milton (hope me is right) say: 'Those who stand and stare, also serve'; the mobile squeals and Dakhi, as usual invites, for Friday lunch at her 8th floor look out at Mandapeshware Kripa Co-op. Housing Society; at the gates, a mango and jackfruit are overflowing with fruits, mangos and jackfruits; me stood and stared; a green pleasure chadored me; by 11 with Chiyu hugging and Shreya koyalling 'Ajoba'; life is on; the final exams are on, Dakhi is tense, not Shreya and Chiyu; they were packing their tiffin; Shreya stuffed cut water-melon into her lunch box; for Chiyu it is her favourite chopped raw mango and gunpowder; they settled down to Aam ras from Jain Dughdhalay ordered by Chiyu. By 12.20 they were in their school bus; Dakhi served dal-kichdi, beet root bhaji, raita and papad for lunch; with that sattvic food, me was sure will hit a century even if Virat Kholi did not. A powerful air-conditioner, froze me; am comfortable with fans; at 4, they were back from their exams and into Aam ras when Shreya debated India-West Indies T20; for the Lady, Indian cricket is about two Mumbaikars: Rohit Sharma and Ajinkya Rahane; more perhaps, Rohit Sharma of Borivili descent; 'Kya Ajoba, kya hua, ye two no-balls kaise ho saktha hai,' the Lady remarked as Chiyu nudged me for bhel puri and sev puri; had no answers for Shreya; well, not even all our patriotic Indian cricket writers and commentators have; they bawled about a wet ball as if both the teams and all of them experts did not know of dew in the night, ahead of the game. India did not deserve to win but that me kept away from Shreya who had panned the match with 10 of her friends at home, according to Dakhi. With Dakhi okay, Chiyu and me autoed to IC colony to pick up three packets of behl puri and one sev puri; and we downed it all with chilled Coke. It was the moment for Dakhi to ask them, how the exams went; the door bell squealed and three little girls - Utsavi, Jhnavi, Prithvi - walked in; the Dakhi query fell off the balcony. The gang of Five, talked this and that and many, me did not know. Some five years ago, Shreya and Chiyu got me to play with them. Son Ganesh had named Shreya, Chinnu. Today, they have gone down to play in the open spaces of their housing society. Time to say, Bye to Chinnu-Chiyu and me Byed. Dharma Nagar to a bare home.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Chinnu-Chiyu
A blog to me is self-talk. With bread toast (surprisingly unburnt), Amul butter and filter kapi, settled in front of the window and the blog-chat began. Opened the computer for a blog which has a few good habits; sometimes it is read, liked, mostly by Kartik Iyer; mostly, unread; but blogging is a morning prayer, a Hanuman Chalisa on this Saturday morning. Rama is jamming the Sreevatsam family crowd in Bengaluru: Mythily, Hari, Rama and Mala. She could not ask for more from her Lord Ganesh; alone on Friday am getting used to do nothing but stand and stare; did not Milton (hope me is right) say: 'Those who stand and stare, also serve'; the mobile squeals and Dakhi, as usual invites, for Friday lunch at her 8th floor look out at Mandapeshware Kripa Co-op. Housing Society; at the gates, a mango and jackfruit are overflowing with fruits, mangos and jackfruits; me stood and stared; a green pleasure chadored me; by 11 with Chiyu hugging and Shreya koyalling 'Ajoba'; life is on; the final exams are on, Dakhi is tense, not Shreya and Chiyu; they were packing their tiffin; Shreya stuffed cut water-melon into her lunch box; for Chiyu it is her favourite chopped raw mango and gunpowder; they settled down to Aam ras from Jain Dughdhalay ordered by Chiyu. By 12.20 they were in their school bus; Dakhi served dal-kichdi, beet root bhaji, raita and papad for lunch; with that sattvic food, me was sure will hit a century even if Virat Kholi did not. A powerful air-conditioner, froze me; am comfortable with fans; at 4, they were back from their exams and into Aam ras when Shreya debated India-West Indies T20; for the Lady, Indian cricket is about two Mumbaikars: Rohit Sharma and Ajinkya Rahane; more perhaps, Rohit Sharma of Borivili descent; 'Kya Ajoba, kya hua, ye two no-balls kaise ho saktha hai,' the Lady remarked as Chiyu nudged me for bhel puri and sev puri; had no answers for Shreya; well, not even all our patriotic Indian cricket writers and commentators have; they bawled about a wet ball as if both the teams and all of them experts did not know of dew in the night, ahead of the game. India did not deserve to win but that me kept away from Shreya who had panned the match with 10 of her friends at home, according to Dakhi. With Dakhi okay, Chiyu and me autoed to IC colony to pick up three packets of behl puri and one sev puri; and we downed it all with chilled Coke. It was the moment for Dakhi to ask them, how the exams went; the door bell squealed and three little girls - Utsavi, Jhnavi, Prithvi - walked in; the Dakhi query fell off the balcony. The gang of Five, talked this and that and many, me did not know. Some five years ago, Shreya and Chiyu got me to play with them. Son Ganesh had named Shreya, Chinnu. Today, they have gone down to play in the open spaces of their housing society. Time to say, Bye to Chinnu-Chiyu and me Byed. Dharma Nagar to a bare home.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment