Days of happiness and nights of contentment marked the calendar in our house. mallI is also an avid reader. She searched the books in our house and was glad to find a few that suited her interest. It looks like her subject is love, her object is love and her life is love. We felt a wave of joy pass over us whenever we glanced at Chandru and mallI.

When we are happy, it seems time runs fast like wild horses. After a long time, conversations with Chandru were like sweet honey mixed with nectar. With mallI and Usha around and their father nodding in appreciation, I never knew when day dissolved into night and when night was reborn again as another day.

A year passed. Chandru got a job near Washington, D. C. and mallI was in the family way. They decided to have their baby delivered in their place, but before that they wanted to visit us. The day of their arrival dawned. As usual, I got up quite early and drew a welcome mat for them.

May be the goddess Sarasvati was kind to him, may be he was hardworking, may be he was lucky, may be a combination of all these. Whatever may be the reason, within a few years, Chandru got his Master’s degree in engineering and was on his way to the US for higher studies. Usha was in the elementary school. I still remember the rangOli I drew on the day when he departed for the States.

My chikkammA had an interesting theory! She believed that sItAdEvi, wife of SrirAma, had superlative skills in rangOli. While she was in asOkavana as a prisoner of the ten headed rAvaNa, she had to spend her lonely days thinking of her beloved.

As one gets older and is alone, memories flood at times. I still remember my father singing SlOkAs of benediction (like kAlE varshatu parjanyaH) at the end of harikathA in the temple. Also at the time of marriage before the cloth screen that separates the bride and the groom is removed, mangaLAshTaka or eight benedictory verses are uttered.

I still vividly remember the days of preparation before the marriage, the commotion in the house, the hectic activities, the frequent trips to one shop or the other, the arrival of relatives before the marriage day and such other things. My father had only one great asset, viz., his scholarship in Sanskrit.

The nicest and finest deed of my chikkamma, for which I am eternally grateful, is introducing me to the art of rangOlis. While my mother, because of her beauty, was almost an automatic choice for ceremonies that needed a married woman, my chikkamma was in great demand for her extraordinary skill in drawing rangOlis.

This is my story, rather our story, mine as well as my rangOli’s. My name is Lalita (lalitA). My husband is no more. He retired as a school teacher and within a short time after his retirement, he passed away. I am all alone in this house. I have three children, the eldest is Chandru (chandrU).

For more than four decades. two songs haunted me. They are set in the same rAga, sindhubhairavi. Whenever I listen to them, I feel like listening to them again and again and again …. It is possible to do so nowadays on the computer.