Sometimes I wish I could leave my life right now and travel back to the 80's and 90's when we went to India. I wish I could just experience even two weeks of my life back when it was utter happiness and joy. Life sucks but to be honest, I had a great childhood. If I were to describe it in one word, it would be Fun. Lots and lots of fun. I kinda feel like going down Memory Lane today.
On the plane rides to India, me and Preeti would have our coloring books and writing pads ready to create lists of everything we needed to buy: chudiyan of all colors, 8 suits, 4 lehngas, 2 Punjabi jootis, purses, bindis, liquid eyeliners, matching earrings with our suits, and of course, ladus. I miss the days when all you had to worry about was which yet to be bought chudiya and earrings were going to match your yet to be bought suits.
After landing, we couldn't wait to leave the airport. I remember how my Mama ji's face looked as he carried my bags. And then he'd drive us home and I'd see Nani and Mami ji and all the cousins. We'd spend some days in Delhi and then travel to Chandigah in the shtabdi (those samosas in the shtabdi are damn good.) Then we'd go see Bee ji first and Tayi ji would have the paneer dishes ready. Taya ji would always take us the to the little Shiva/Ganesh temple in our home and say a few prayers. Shelly didi and I wouldn't stop hugging each other. We would laugh and eat and talk on for hours. It was as if we were all so thirsty for each other and we had finally quenched our thirst.
The following days in Chandigarh were always a blast. Tayi ji would make tons of paneer dishes because that was Preeti's favorite dish. We had all kinds of paneer: saag paneer, paneer makhni, paneer with shimla mirch, matar paneer and others I can't even remember. Shelly didi would take me and Preeti all over the place. We'd go shopping in Sector 17 at Phulkari and Kohinoor and then we'd have sweets and dosas at Sindhi Sweets. We'd go to the music store and listen to Informer playing through the speakers : ) We'd go to Hot Millions and eat paneer kababs (see what I mean about the paneer) and have chocolate fudge sundaes for dessert in these huge beer mugs. We loved riding on the Kinetic Honda with Shelly. We'd go for long drives around Chandigarh (one time we went for a ride around the Sukhna lake and it was really hot and we were really thirsty so we stopped to get some Thumbs Up. Preeti for some reason was particularly thirsty so she drank TWO thumbs up bottles real fast. Me and Shelly were kinda suprised cause my sister was a little scrawny and skinny as a kid and were wondering how her stomach could handle all that coke. Anyways, we got back on the Honda and started driving. But guess what happened a few minutes later. My sister started screaming and saying "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" We were like, what the heck! What is happening! So we all got off the Honda and Shelly started slapping Preeti's back to help her breathe (Punjabis always think that any problem can be solved with some sort of force). Then all of a sudden, Preeti let out the HUGEST of belches you've ever heard. We were shocked - how could such a humongous burp come out of something so small. That damn Thumbs Up did her good. Then we got back on the Honda and it was time to go home.)
This is also the reason I don't understand why Punjab always runs out of electricity. Punjabis are the greatest of gas makers. Why don't you just line 'em up in a factory and use all that gas for good purposes. But no that would be too efficient of a process for the Indians. Jeez Louise. Anyways I'm getting off track.
I miss all the mischief me and Tinku sported with Nani. I miss how she used to wave her cane in the air warning us to get down from the side walls of the veranda at the house we had managed to climb in Sector 19. I miss how Preeti used to be a goody two shoes around her and made us look like imps. I miss how we used to walk to the mandir with Nani in the evenings (primarily to get boondi as prasad. What, I couldn't help it. I love sweets.)
I miss how my other Mama ji would tell me not to eat too much ketchup. I miss how I would stand outside the front door waiting for him to come home, how I used to follow him around the house looking for any chocolate he might have brought home for me. I miss the sight of him driving his pale blue scooter through the streets of Delhi. I hope he's happy playing cricket up in Heaven now.
I miss how you get those massive pimple-looking blisters from the ants that bit you in the eye during the night. I miss how you stupidly got bit by those ants by choosing to sleep outside. I miss how you can't fall asleep outside because the moon is so bright in the sky or because there is a Jagran in the distance. I even miss waking up and having to take a dump in the toilets built in the ground. It's all about reestablishing your connection to the Earth.
I miss the beautiful garden that Taya ji created. I miss how I used to hang around in the balcony upstairs and watch the guys play sports at the DAV school grounds across the street. I miss all the singing and the dholki playing for ten days straight before Lilly didi's wedding. I miss all the Thursday morning poojas with Baba ji in the house. I miss the abundance of marigolds that were strewn for his arrival and the bright orange ladus you got after the pooja.
So I have to admit I have another fantasy. I feel like I'm really exposing myself but I'm sort of becoming the type of person who doesn't have much to hide anymore. I would love to get engaged in Chandigarh one day. Maybe at Khyber or Taj. I would have all my family, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins there. It would be a dream come true (I know however, that I will have to keep cotton in my ears during the whole party because of the high decibel nature of the Punjabi event.) And then the next day, I wanna ride on a Kinetic Honda with my fiance through the streets of Chandigarh. It'll be like in the hindi movies. He'll be driving and I'll be holding him tight and my hair will be flying in the air and we'll sing romantic hindi songs. And if he doesn't sing them, I'm gonna punch him in the arm.
I miss the hot afternoon strolls through the rock garden and gazing at such interesting creations made out of stone. I miss running through the rose gardens and imagining I was in the movie Silsila being Rekha romancing with Amitabh. I miss watching movies in the Kiran theater and complaining about them out loud but secretly enjoying them. I miss the best-mango-shakes-I've-ever-had in Sector 22. I miss just exploring and living happily and just being free.
Oh yeah and then me and the fiance are gonna go to the rose garden and sing "Yeh Kahaaaaaaaaan Aa Gaye Hummmmm...Yoohi saath saath chalte." And then like Amitabh, he'll say "Ha! Hum ko Mohabbat hai, mohabbat hai, mohabbat!"
Oh yea I forgot to talk about the journey back home when we left India. I used to hate having to leave. I never wanted to leave my cousins. We were so spoiled with love there and treated like princesses. We were given so much time and so much attention and we had so much fun that I didn't want to come back home. So usually about a week before we had to leave, I would get these real yucky feelings in the pit of my stomach. And the mood used to mellow out a bit. Everyone would start getting a little quiet because we knew the inevitable was coming. We had to go home.
I usually got pretty quiet the day we had to leave. We would drive to the airport and my Mama ji's face would be all droopy and there would be a deep sadness in his eyes. Mami ji wouldn't say much to me either except through her eyes. And then mom would start crying and there would be big Punjabi hugs at the airport. I never liked to cry in front of everyone so I would hold the tears back real tight.
Then we'd get in the plane and me and Preeti would take out our coloring books and writing pads again. The plane would take off but Preeti always fell asleep (she loves to sleep). But I would stay up and start writing. I hate goodbyes but it's far easier for me to write them than to say them.
I would write something like the following: "Dear India, my beloved, thank you so much for such a wonderful time. As I leave the country, there is a hole so deep in my heart it is hard to breathe. But I must leave now. I must go back to America where my home is. My friends probably miss me. I will love you forever. Good bye Mama ji. Good bye Shelly didi. Good bye Taya ji and Tayi ji. Good bye Nani and Tinku. Good bye gol gupes and papdi chaat. Good bye my dear Chandigarh...good bye Delhi.....
...good....bye.....India!"
On the plane rides to India, me and Preeti would have our coloring books and writing pads ready to create lists of everything we needed to buy: chudiyan of all colors, 8 suits, 4 lehngas, 2 Punjabi jootis, purses, bindis, liquid eyeliners, matching earrings with our suits, and of course, ladus. I miss the days when all you had to worry about was which yet to be bought chudiya and earrings were going to match your yet to be bought suits.
After landing, we couldn't wait to leave the airport. I remember how my Mama ji's face looked as he carried my bags. And then he'd drive us home and I'd see Nani and Mami ji and all the cousins. We'd spend some days in Delhi and then travel to Chandigah in the shtabdi (those samosas in the shtabdi are damn good.) Then we'd go see Bee ji first and Tayi ji would have the paneer dishes ready. Taya ji would always take us the to the little Shiva/Ganesh temple in our home and say a few prayers. Shelly didi and I wouldn't stop hugging each other. We would laugh and eat and talk on for hours. It was as if we were all so thirsty for each other and we had finally quenched our thirst.
The following days in Chandigarh were always a blast. Tayi ji would make tons of paneer dishes because that was Preeti's favorite dish. We had all kinds of paneer: saag paneer, paneer makhni, paneer with shimla mirch, matar paneer and others I can't even remember. Shelly didi would take me and Preeti all over the place. We'd go shopping in Sector 17 at Phulkari and Kohinoor and then we'd have sweets and dosas at Sindhi Sweets. We'd go to the music store and listen to Informer playing through the speakers : ) We'd go to Hot Millions and eat paneer kababs (see what I mean about the paneer) and have chocolate fudge sundaes for dessert in these huge beer mugs. We loved riding on the Kinetic Honda with Shelly. We'd go for long drives around Chandigarh (one time we went for a ride around the Sukhna lake and it was really hot and we were really thirsty so we stopped to get some Thumbs Up. Preeti for some reason was particularly thirsty so she drank TWO thumbs up bottles real fast. Me and Shelly were kinda suprised cause my sister was a little scrawny and skinny as a kid and were wondering how her stomach could handle all that coke. Anyways, we got back on the Honda and started driving. But guess what happened a few minutes later. My sister started screaming and saying "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" We were like, what the heck! What is happening! So we all got off the Honda and Shelly started slapping Preeti's back to help her breathe (Punjabis always think that any problem can be solved with some sort of force). Then all of a sudden, Preeti let out the HUGEST of belches you've ever heard. We were shocked - how could such a humongous burp come out of something so small. That damn Thumbs Up did her good. Then we got back on the Honda and it was time to go home.)
This is also the reason I don't understand why Punjab always runs out of electricity. Punjabis are the greatest of gas makers. Why don't you just line 'em up in a factory and use all that gas for good purposes. But no that would be too efficient of a process for the Indians. Jeez Louise. Anyways I'm getting off track.
I miss all the mischief me and Tinku sported with Nani. I miss how she used to wave her cane in the air warning us to get down from the side walls of the veranda at the house we had managed to climb in Sector 19. I miss how Preeti used to be a goody two shoes around her and made us look like imps. I miss how we used to walk to the mandir with Nani in the evenings (primarily to get boondi as prasad. What, I couldn't help it. I love sweets.)
I miss how my other Mama ji would tell me not to eat too much ketchup. I miss how I would stand outside the front door waiting for him to come home, how I used to follow him around the house looking for any chocolate he might have brought home for me. I miss the sight of him driving his pale blue scooter through the streets of Delhi. I hope he's happy playing cricket up in Heaven now.
I miss how you get those massive pimple-looking blisters from the ants that bit you in the eye during the night. I miss how you stupidly got bit by those ants by choosing to sleep outside. I miss how you can't fall asleep outside because the moon is so bright in the sky or because there is a Jagran in the distance. I even miss waking up and having to take a dump in the toilets built in the ground. It's all about reestablishing your connection to the Earth.
I miss the beautiful garden that Taya ji created. I miss how I used to hang around in the balcony upstairs and watch the guys play sports at the DAV school grounds across the street. I miss all the singing and the dholki playing for ten days straight before Lilly didi's wedding. I miss all the Thursday morning poojas with Baba ji in the house. I miss the abundance of marigolds that were strewn for his arrival and the bright orange ladus you got after the pooja.
So I have to admit I have another fantasy. I feel like I'm really exposing myself but I'm sort of becoming the type of person who doesn't have much to hide anymore. I would love to get engaged in Chandigarh one day. Maybe at Khyber or Taj. I would have all my family, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins there. It would be a dream come true (I know however, that I will have to keep cotton in my ears during the whole party because of the high decibel nature of the Punjabi event.) And then the next day, I wanna ride on a Kinetic Honda with my fiance through the streets of Chandigarh. It'll be like in the hindi movies. He'll be driving and I'll be holding him tight and my hair will be flying in the air and we'll sing romantic hindi songs. And if he doesn't sing them, I'm gonna punch him in the arm.
I miss the hot afternoon strolls through the rock garden and gazing at such interesting creations made out of stone. I miss running through the rose gardens and imagining I was in the movie Silsila being Rekha romancing with Amitabh. I miss watching movies in the Kiran theater and complaining about them out loud but secretly enjoying them. I miss the best-mango-shakes-I've-ever-had in Sector 22. I miss just exploring and living happily and just being free.
Oh yeah and then me and the fiance are gonna go to the rose garden and sing "Yeh Kahaaaaaaaaan Aa Gaye Hummmmm...Yoohi saath saath chalte." And then like Amitabh, he'll say "Ha! Hum ko Mohabbat hai, mohabbat hai, mohabbat!"
Oh yea I forgot to talk about the journey back home when we left India. I used to hate having to leave. I never wanted to leave my cousins. We were so spoiled with love there and treated like princesses. We were given so much time and so much attention and we had so much fun that I didn't want to come back home. So usually about a week before we had to leave, I would get these real yucky feelings in the pit of my stomach. And the mood used to mellow out a bit. Everyone would start getting a little quiet because we knew the inevitable was coming. We had to go home.
I usually got pretty quiet the day we had to leave. We would drive to the airport and my Mama ji's face would be all droopy and there would be a deep sadness in his eyes. Mami ji wouldn't say much to me either except through her eyes. And then mom would start crying and there would be big Punjabi hugs at the airport. I never liked to cry in front of everyone so I would hold the tears back real tight.
Then we'd get in the plane and me and Preeti would take out our coloring books and writing pads again. The plane would take off but Preeti always fell asleep (she loves to sleep). But I would stay up and start writing. I hate goodbyes but it's far easier for me to write them than to say them.
I would write something like the following: "Dear India, my beloved, thank you so much for such a wonderful time. As I leave the country, there is a hole so deep in my heart it is hard to breathe. But I must leave now. I must go back to America where my home is. My friends probably miss me. I will love you forever. Good bye Mama ji. Good bye Shelly didi. Good bye Taya ji and Tayi ji. Good bye Nani and Tinku. Good bye gol gupes and papdi chaat. Good bye my dear Chandigarh...good bye Delhi.....
...good....bye.....India!"
[insert sobs]
Seriously I did this. I'm not kidding. I was born with a bit of the dramatic bone. But honestly us dramatics, as funny as we look on the outside, we're not so funny on the inside. We just feel too deeply, unfortunately. Love is so addicting. Love that is true.
I feel so lucky to have these memories. Under the harshest of suns, these memories are the cool moonlight.
"har taraf ziist kii raaho.n me.n ka.Dii dhuup hai dost
bas terii yaad ke saaye hai.n panaaho.n kii tarah."
- Sudarshan Faakir
