I woke up today to mom gently caressing my hair...wow! when did that last happen?! The smile on my face faltered as my mind suggested that there was a chore in the coming as soon as I was to get up. And that distinct possibility kept me from moving my lips anymore, eyes clamped shut. But you know how moms are... they have a knack with getting their li'l ones up - that's where my attendance in school gets credit!
So once I was up, I was to come to terms with the fact that we (Dad, Mum, I and sis) were to attend an upanayanam ceremony (baptising) of some 10 year old kiddie who was the grandson of an ol' friend of my mother's...
Now what did that have to do with me?
"Shiv (Yours truly, at home), it's been close to 20 years - and all those who're attending would be people from where I grew up as a kid.", goes Mum.
"Oh! and I was thinking it would be mighty entertaining to watch a ten-year-old put the sacred thread upon a bare back!"
"Now, now! watch your tongue... I just want you to be there and let people know that Neeraja has grown into a mum of two college going kids. Is that asking too much of you?"
"Yaaaawn...."
I was all dressed and ready in an hour.
Mum tells me that I had a contorted face all this long, and sis is confident that she found me mouthing words she isn't comfortable with at home, and in my defence I'd say that you're supposed to give the benefit of the doubt when your mouth is all frothed while brushing your teeth. (though truly speaking, that's when my language can get ugly loud, and Mum would think I'm probably rapping an Eminem number - sis on the other hand, knows the difference between Eminem and Profanity)
Forty minutes of an unusually-quiet me during the drive up to Lawrence Road from RK Puram on the way to the ceremony. Seated next to the driver's seat, I got to irritate everyone by letting those lousy 102.6 FM RJs make absolutely no sense. I didn't move the dial, no sir! Tantrums zindabaad!
:-)
Moral of the story, Mum, Dad: Treat me like a child, and I'll behave like one!
Once there, it was all about mum and her ol' pals from Lawrence Road. Most of the 50-pluses remembered my mum as 'house number 85 maami's'daughter'. That's the brighter side of having gone twenty miles up north in the morning - Mum's got a new nickname over here at home.
And every now and then, we had our eyes on the 10 year old taking oaths in a language that - heaven knows, whether that priest understood it at all... (I for one didn't, in spite of 93/100 in the language in my board exams!)
A hearty meal at 11 was welcome respite. I had a local Delhi-ite sitting next to me who was clueless in the art of eating off plantain leafs (A south Indian ceremony, you'd easily guess). So I had to maintain my dignified best all the while I ate ( That's not something I'm really good at ), as she followed my cue on how-to-eat-a-typical-Tamil-meal :
1) Wash the leaf with the water that's in your glass.
2) Let those guys serve you the items one by one. Finish the payasam first, or it'll flow out of your leaf.
3) Divide the rice that's on your leaf into three parts.
4) Part 1 is for Sambhar. Try finishing off half (that would mean around 4 vegetable curries) the items with sambhar rice.
5) Part 2 is for Rasam. Be done with the applaam (paapad) in that case, and the remaining items.
6) Part 3 if for Mor (curd). They'll give you oorgaay (pickles)for taste. And at last, you have a sweet (again, for taste!)
And there ends the story.
It is followed by another story at 2 pm wherein I, Mum and Dad were the chief protagonists who cast their ballot to 3 different political parties...but oh! going on with that would mean I'd have to let out the name of the candidate I voted for, and that in turn would mean I wasn't exercising my Right to Secrecy, he he!
SHOWN THE GENERAL ELECTIONS MY FINGER ;-)
Anyways, I've got a full belly from the meal this afternoon.
Till next time
the Guy Next Door
