Have you seen the promos of CSI Miami? They often show 360 degree, slow motion clips of action sequence (like travelling bullets) which are impossible to witness in real. It’s interesting to see how the virtual eye dissects every detail of the frame in question. I finally got to catch an episode of it, after the long and exhausting celebrations of my brother’s marriage. A bride groom gift - dolls dressed in traditional south Indian brahmin marriage dress Months of planning, endless shopping spree and unstoppable need to please everyone are finally over. My home is filled with bouquet, gift boxes and sweets of several kinds. The much welcomed order and quietness has prevailed again. Here are some “unusual/strange/weird/ one in million/ or call whatever you wish “moments of it.
1. I baby proofed my entire apartment for the marriage – No surprise.
2. I shaved my dad’s head (don’t get me started on the reasons. It’s my first time but it proved to be fun and kind of dad-son bonding event.) …
“Where are all the Golu Park dolls?”, I asked my
mom over the quiet lunch. “enda kanna. It must be on the loft”, she looked at me curiously. Without waiting for my reply
she continued “Do you want me to pack that so you can take it Singapore? “. That
was a lovely gesture I thought. She
understood that I missed Golu and I might be interested to have them. Only she
could understand me without much words. “Nothing ma, just wanted to see them” ( pic courtesy : Google ) After lunch I managed to get on the big stool made
specially to access loft, and like a director of a movie, she guided me to the
location among boxes of stuff. Golu is
a 9-day festival where we adorn the home with beautiful mud idols of god. Park
is basically a miniature village usually set up around Golu on sand. Its
decorated with plastic houses, trees, villages, trains etc. “ Paathu kanna there
is so much dust, why don’t you wear a kerchief mask, you are allergic to dust “
she raised her usual concern. There it was, my…
“Vatsa stop watering rose pot. Too much water would drain the
nutrients, water these tomatoes instead” shouted Sarala Paati (my grandma). I
was playing with garden hose, experimenting different water fountain patterns
with thumb. I must be 7 or 8 years old then. “Bring me that chisel and dig right
here” she ordered. I was always the chosen minion amongst the bunch of cousins
spending summer at Sarala Paati’s home. I would dig until my hands pained and
dirt crept up under my finger nails. I
longed to go back to playing and asked “Is this ok? “, every few seconds.
Invariably, without lifting her eye from pruning the plants, she would reply “dig
a little deeper”. She must be awfully bored to do this, I thought.
By afternoon most of the adult napped providing us enough
time to do unsupervised activities. We did everything from shooting vegetables
to setting fire to the trash pit with powder from old fireworks. I made a bow
and arrow for shooting vegetables. The string was made from rubbe…