A rangOli story - Part IV

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. These eight verses are addressed to the gods, demigods, seers, kings, mountains, rivers, cultural traits and planets propitiating their blessings for the auspicious event. As a priest and as a scholar he used to carry out this job in a very dedicated and enjoyable manner. The words “kuryAdhruvaM mangaLam” still ring in my ears. I have only vague memories of my beautiful mother. She used to narrate stories to us in an interesting and absorbing way. All the Hindu heroes like Rama and Bheema used to assume a new life in her narrations. Of course, my chikkamma sAvitri was an encyclopedia of patterns and rangOlis. I still wonder how she could carry so much knowledge. Many very old patterns used to assume new forms in her hand. I did not have much acquaintance with Chandru’s mother. However during some pUjAs, I had the pleasure of listening to her singing classical songs, in particular dEvaranAmAs (songs in the praise of God) written by purandaradAsa, one of the founders of the karNATic system of music.

The incident that left a permanent imprint on me occurred a year after my marriage. Chandru’s aunt (his father’s sister) was at our place for her second child’s delivery. A few days after the child’s delivery, we were preparing for the naming ceremony. Since the house was overflowing with relatives, Chandru’s room was given to somebody else and he was sleeping in the hall. We got up early and as usual I drew an elaborate rangOli befitting the occasion. Afterward I was walking to the bathroom at the rear of the house where water was being boiled in a big haNDA for everybody’s bath. While I was passing through the walkway I saw a snake crawling on the mat where Chandru was sleeping. I immediately shouted and threw at it the small bowl with the rangOli powder. It hit the snake and it very quickly pounced on me and perhaps bit on my ankle and vanished. After my first shout everyone rushed into the hall and witnessed what happened. They woke up Chandru and sent him to fetch somebody who was an expert in snake charms etc. Another went to get a doctor. Chandru’s father bit on my leg above the ankle and spit out what may be the snake poison and another tied a cloth there. The doctor came and suggested that I must be taken to the hospital. After a few hours the commotion subsided and everything was back to normal. I didn’t die! I was so happy that the snake didn’t do any harm to Chandru. By the way, the rangOli I drew that day was a nAgabandha, the snake being a symbol of fertility and as it was the day of the naming-the-child ceremony.

Years rolled on. Chandru finished his junior college. He was a good student and obtained good grades and applied for admission to several colleges. He was selected for studies in the engineering college as well as to an arts college. He opted for engineering, but his father felt he must get an arts degree as it was cheaper to manage. One day in the hot summer, just before sleeping, I had to convince him to send Chandru for engineering studies. I told him, “Look, Usha is still a child. There is no other child in the house. You are a teacher, a good teacher and your students and colleagues love you and respect you very much. However, you haven’t prospered. Let him chase his dreams and rainbows. Who knows, he may become great in his field. My father is a poor man. He didn’t give me great riches. Still, I have one or two gold ornaments and you also have his mother’s jewels and the land. We must be able to manage his expenses. May be he will get a scholarship later.” My husband, though slightly old fashioned, was a very good man and he asked me many a time to wear Sarada’s jewels. Somehow, I felt it was not proper to do such an act. They are for her children whom she could not love long. After some convincing, he assented. I must tell here that our youngest son Ravi was not born then. He was born much later. I decided to have a child only after both Chandru and Usha grew up. I always doubted myself and I was always worried whether I would love them and whether I could love them when I became a mother to my own child.

... to be continued

(A note on the rangOli - I will write some details on the rangOlis I am posting along with each episode of the story at the conclusion of the story. Suffice it to say that this particular rangOli was an inspired one and I thank the person who inspired me to draw this in my own way. - m)