childhood flasback

Today is the 26th of June - dada would have been 62 today if he had been around.  Funny to think of him as old; he died in a freak car accident at the age of 37 years on 10th December, 1988.  Ma always made 'payesh' (sweet dish made of milk, rice,sugar and jaggery sprinkled with cashew, pista, kishmish and yes tejpata) on our birthdays, so common with most Bengali families, and it always turned out to be excellent.  Well, on one such 26th June the payesh was kept for cooling and meanwhile dada and I started our usual fights.  The fight culminated in dada picking up a slipper and aiming it at me which smoothly sploshed on the huge kadai of payesh! What happened after that is anybody's guess but I remember lapping up freshly-made payesh in the evening.

My mother, dada & I

The tejpata reminded me of a funny incident. In those days if Ma was cooking she loved to add tejpata in most of the dishes. I remember it was sunday and while we all sat down for lunch Baba jokingly exclaimed why there was no tejpata in the rice!! Ma went red - present around the table were a couple of pishis, my kaku and Haren jethu besides us four.

Dada and I would quarrel over the slightest thing - relatives said this is what happens when two siblings are born pitho-pithi (close to each other). The reason for our quarrels could be anything - making of our beds at night, polishing our shoes, listening to songs (he would insist on Cliff Richard, Elvis Presley, Pat Boone records) and I would insist on Rabindra sangeet just to spite him.  Scuffing, scratching, boxing, pulling hair were part of our lives on any given day.  I am not ashamed to say the quarrels continued even after I became a mother of four kids. Our bonding was special - he completely relied on me and i did the same. When I married George in 1985 and moved off to Secunderabad with the children in tow dada was in Bombay working at Tata Shipping.  As soon as he came to know I had left |Calcutta, he quit his job and came home. He was very upset with me and sent me a letter to say he had been working in Bombay because he knew I was there in the city close to our parents; and that I should never have left without a warning. I miss my dada even today.

After dinner Baba enjoyed discussing everything under the sun (and sometimes beyond!) with kaku and jethu.  This hour and more was serious business and if we children (yes we were allowed to be present and ask questions too) spoiled these sessions with our stupid fights there was always only one option -out of the house for sometime.  Lake Avenue was a quiet neighborhood and two of dada's friends lived right next door - so one wolf whistle and out they would come.
They would greet us with - 'so you guys are out for your after-dinner walk?' and then followed by laughs, more friendly jeering and catch-catch games. Sometimes our 'night-out' punishments would be brief, which suited all of us, but there were times when it could stretch for a longer period.  Of course the friends would leave and then dada and I would get into our garage (which had an opening above the door) and settle inside the car.  In those days people did not lock cars - thank God for that especially during winter!  No matter what, now I wonder did it stop us from fighting?  No! These were great 'small' adventures and we thoroughly relished them secretly, even if we did not realise then.

However much we fought, we never squealed on each other.  Our parents knew they could never make us open our mouths against each other and they respected that attitude.  So even if I knew dada took money from the drawer and sent the cook to buy those 'latta' fish for his fish 'choubacchha' (tank) or asked the other help to get him a couple of 'chinese pigeons' I would never tell on him.  But then it did not matter, Baba always came to know and then we all know what followed.  this is not to say I was a perfect girl - no way, but i wish dada was around to give his side of the story.  Yes, my childhood seems to have been obliterated after 1988.  Happy birthday dada!  I am sure Ma has made payesh for you in that land where we all must go one day.