jkmrao's blog

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. New dimensions were added to our joy with the expectancy of the arrival of two new lives, flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood and image of our images. chikkammA, without my father's knowledge, used to peep in now and then.

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. It had the homecoming theme of pArvati going to her parents’ place (here the pArvati is coming from abroad to visit the place of her in-laws). Even though the train in which they were supposed to be travelling in arrives only in the afternoon, we were ready even by eleven in the morning.

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. It was a pushpaka vimAna!

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. These eight verses are addressed to the gods, demigods, seers, kings, mountains, rivers, cultural traits and planets propitiating their blessings for the auspicious event.

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. Unfortunately, nobody honoured it and so he was finding it difficult to find the money for all the expenses. My brother just then got a temporary posting. One gold chain and a pair of bangles that belonged to my dead mother was all that he had to send me with.

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. During the marriages, floral patterns had to be drawn for the feast of the bride and the groom. We call this haribhUma. My stepmother was an expert in drawing those and other rangOlis suitable for various religious occasions.

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). He lives in America with his wife Mallika (mallikA, we call her mallI) and their child Sarada (SAradA). The next one is Ravi (ravi), he lives in the city. He is working for his literature doctorate and teaches in the university.

After next week, one has to wait for a few months to watch top class tennis. US open is taking place in New York since Monday. What a bonanza for tennis aficionados! I am following tennis for more than fifty years, from the amateur years to the modern days. What changes, from ordinary rackets to the graphite rackets, from endless sets to tie-breakers, from umpire-knows-it-all to player challenges. Unfortunately though, tennis has not taken deep roots in India.

One part of myself has fallen in love with the sona drawings (http://www.ikolam.com/node/6485
http://www.ikolam.com/node/6528
http://www.ikolam.com/node/7021)