Monsoon Musings

During monsoons, I keep looking at the sea which is invisible from most of the windows including the bathroom ones. The sea plays luka chhipi ( hide and seek) with the intensity of the rain. This time the internal chatter actually slows down. I feel light. The summer dust settles down and the feet feel cleaner at home. The sunlight is easy on the eye and I do not miss the afternoon glare and the heat. I have no concerns about not having rain shoes and I am okay spoiling any pair of shoes. I like the washed clothes hanging on the clothes racks inside the living room and am not embarrassed about it. Years back, a friend's wife had visited me from Delhi. She had later conveyed to her husband how I had clothes drying in the living room windows instead of plants. My friend used to visit us when we were just married. The house was full of plants and knick knacks. With two small children, anything which can be put in the mouth, had mud in it or could topple or had sharp edges was gradually given away. After that I seem to have just lost the eye for buying artistic stuff for the house or any stuff which I like looking at for days in the living room. I still admire the way people fill their homes with beautiful things. I have completely given up on the beautiful objects. I like stuff but when I get it home, I feel it just doesn't fit. I am excited about buying kitchen utility items but not crockery. I enjoy buying cleaning detergents, hand wipe napkins, mops etc. I don't enjoy anything which needs to be wiped and cleaned every day. I feel if it adds to my work, I can do without it. Anything that aids to make life simpler, cleaner and quicker, is most welcome. There is this constant need to lead a hassle free life. I never ever buy anything before thinking which kitchen shelf can it be kept on.

Am I boring or am I unartistic? I always wondered why these Gujarati families who spent huge money on an architect to do up the house, always let the architect choose the paintings and show pieces? In our house in Jharia, we had a very fancy drawing room. It was separate from our living room. Only special guests were made to sit in the drawing room. Rest of the time it was kept closed. Mom had great regards for education, so the tuition teacher for the children was allowed to sit here for one hour. This is the room which was cleaned and dusted every single day. It had amazing yellow lights with some foreign glass lamps. The false ceiling was the best ever. This room was always painted in cream and kept very well with its rust coloured sofas. The sofas and furniture was fixed. The sofas were kept L shaped. The woodwork was ace quality. In the book shelf which was a part of the fixed furniture, we kept all the big religious books like the Veda, Bhagwad Geeta and the Upanishads. All these books were in Gujarati. Whenever my grandmother read them, she used the wooden stand to keep the book as they were heavy  to hold. I was allowed to read with that wooden book stand.  When we shifted houses from Jharia to Dhanbad, all the books were lost. My mother who made lists and lists of the stuff being transported could never track this sack full of religious books. I am sure they were out of print books even then. I am just grateful that she had managed to save my Grandmother's Bhagwad Geeta and she gifted that to me for my wedding. Amongst all my wedding gifts and my trousseau, I cherish this book the most. I am looking for a stand and a good cloth cover for the book.

When I was in college in Mumbai and went home for my vacations, I was allowed to sleep in this formal drawing room on my folding bed. I used to pull the landline from the living room to my temporary bedroom cum drawing room, in the night and chat away. Imagine the phone cord being so long to go from one room to another! We had a black phone and later a deep red one. Miss all the four and five digit home numbers. In fact, I can still rattle all my cousins' old phone numbers. Some Mumbai numbers have also been imprinted in memory including one of the first boyfriend from college and all my work numbers. Though I don't call them anymore. Read somewhere, one should try to remember only relevant things. There is enough crap in the brains and it does not need an information overload. I see children remembering who wore what and when even in the films. I am dying to tell them to apply their brains to more creative pursuits. But how do I erase those phone numbers which no longer exist? Those homes which don't exist and in some cases those people who do not exist any more. May be I did not call them enough from Mumbai...from my new life.