Family tales 1

If you recite the Sundarkand every day, your son will be born as strong and valorous as Bajrang bali, exhorted my grand mother- in -law. 

She was tiny and frail, and the spectacles that perched on her elegant nose seemed to dwarf every other feature. Up at the crack of dawn, bathed and dressed in a cotton dhoti, seated in her favourite spot, she would fix her determined gaze upon me as I straggled out of my bedroom , casting frantic glances at the tea pot on the dining table that was almost always empty. Oh no, I would groan to myself, I will have to make tea, the stainless steel saucepan will get scorched, and Anirudh bhaiya will give me the withering look which silently says : these modern girls! 

There is a Tulsi Ramayan in naana's cupboard, why don't you borrow it ----- Amma's voice would break through my reverie. I will, Amma, I would promise and promptly forgot about it. 

Till lunch time , Amma would sit in the reclining chair that was rather strategically placed ----- not a soul could stir without her knowledge. The afternoon would see her resting on her four poster bed, and I would tip toe through the room into mine, praying that she would not ask, Is 2 pm not an unearthly hour to take a bath? 

She invited me to sit beside her one day. There was a sweetbox in her long fingered hand. Do you like ghevar, she asked. Y-yes, I answered cautiously, wishing neither to dampen the enthusiasm in her voice nor let myself in for a not- so - delectable treat. I have hidden it from your mother in law, she whispered conspiratorially, or it will get confiscated. Amma, you ARE diabetic, you know, I replied rather pedantically. Does that mean I should live a joyless life,was her furiously whispered answer. So the box was opened and I had my first taste of the slice of heaven that is called ghevar. 

I ought to return a favour, I told myself , and picked up the Tulsi Ramayan that day from behind the sliding doors of the cupboard that had held most of my grand father -in - law's worldly possessions. That night, my elder son curled besides me, I began reading Sunder Kand. The tale held me captive, so come morning, I plonked myself in the pooja room where my husband's maasi performed her daily Hanuman pooja. The cadence and rhythm were quickly learnt, but the calm and fragrance of the room and the benign look on the Hanuman idol made me feel so restful that I and my elder son began to spend more and more time here. It was at night, when the world had fallen silent, that I would invoke Ram and begin reciting Sundarkand, drifting away into sleep with the Tulsi Ramayan held fast in my hands. 

Mama, asked my son one day, what does kanan kundal kunchit kesa mean ? That was the day that my 2 year old baby and I together began reciting the Hanuman Chalisa. 

Whether it was the food that did the trick, or Amma's exhortation, or the fragrant calm of maasi's pooja room or the mother-and-son chanting of the Hanuman Chalisa ----- my younger son IS strong and valorous , loyal and chivalrous, he CAN move mountains. Amma, are you listening? I bet you have placed your rocking chair close to Heaven's portals, all the better to keep an eye on who is entering and who is being sent past!