Nostalgia...

is something I've been having a lot lately. Its Dushehra today. The whole country is on leave and I am sitting in office trying to go through the career ladder framework of a client. Apart from other stuff... which is enough to expand and fill all time available including the weekend. Its October and we officially enter the 'Killathon' months. People will soon start walking on all fours in office... everyone's bending over the back.

I am missing home today. And that just does not mean Pune. I am missing the times when I looked forward to these times of the year with impatient yearning. I looked forward to taking the rickety bus ride to Kanpur from Raebareli ... the seemingly endless waiting till all the activities building upto those final moments would end and the joy ride begin.

I am missing the excitement of wearing new clothes... and how Mom would so many times buy dress material and stitch clothes for us... we could not afford the fancy clothes in those big shops but Mom more than made up for it. The sweets that women in the house made... and our attempts at stealing the yummies from the big aluminium jars. We were not to eat them till the Pooja was over... the Gods had to be offered the goodies before the greedy demons could be satisfied. Nevertheless we almost always got to them before Ganesha did.

And the final moments... the grandeur of the huge parks where the 'Ravana' effigy would be erected... it took months to make and was a clandestine activity... not to be seen till the very last day possibly. There always is a fierce competition between various areas in the city on whose Mr Bad is the best... there are bets riding on the results. And thousands of rupees go into making and erecting the effigy which then burns after 'Bhagwan Ram' shoots a burning arrow through its navel!

The end result was we'd wait with baited breathe for the one in our pada or nagar to come out... and unanimously believed we were the best in the whole of Kanpur. So finally the day would come... the house would be in utter chaos with everyone asking everyone else to do everything and then finally... by noon time people would have bathed, clothed and ready for the pooja (several hours late ofcourse) ... the songs hymns would be sung, a diya lit in every room of the house, second round of pooja and finally would come the time when we could eat. The kitchen would spout pooris, chhole, raita, halwa... till one could not eat any more. The elders would take respite in siesta and we would run out to have a look at all the preparations going on everywhere.

The evening was when we all got ready with coercion or cajoling. We wore our clothes and waited till the adults managed to do the same and then all would set out for the bada maidan. I remember how amazing the shops selling paani puri, khasta puri, chhole samosa, you-name-it-they-had-it assortment of eatables looked. The wooden thelas (platform on wheels) carrying the local fizzy drink called 'Kancha' (Marbles) which was such a rage then... It was called kancha coz they sealed the bottle neck with a marble... And you had to pop it in to the bottle to drink. I remember knowing I probably had just about ten rupees in all to spend and always came back home with money still left coz I just could not decide in God's name what to eat and what to sacrfice.

We would all gather on Rajjan Chacha's roof top and watch the aatishbaazi competition (Fireworks) ... we'd just keep asking... 'Ma rawan kab jalega... bolo... ab kitni der ho gayi hai?' and granny would tell us the muhurt had not come yet! damn... how much waiting had one to do in this whole Dushehra business... painful!

Finally the muhurt would come... and it seemed like everyone in the park, which had people in thousands would know somehow... the rath (open carriage) carrying Mr Ram would make its way through the crowds towards the Ravana... oh and I forgot to tell you... the statues erected were really really tall... anywhere between 80 to 120 feet, held up with ropes etc...I have pictures as a kid standing next to one just about reaching the curvy tip of Mr Ravana's fancy red shoe.

So Mr Ram would then take out his bow and arrow, light its tip and aim. The public would start roaring and much to everyone's delight Mr Ram would miss... It obviously would take several attempts before a Bindra happened... in fact many a times it would be the ropes, the dry grass around the statue doused with diesel catching fire that came to Mr Ram's embarrassing rescue.

Finally it would begin... the MOMENT that all had been waiting for would begin... the effigy would burn and the fire crackers and bombs inside would blast... so a head went off here and we'd go Haaaaaeeeeeyyyyyyy and a limb blew there and heeeeeaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.... It was crazy, deafening and wild and it lasted... they stuffed them Ravans with so much ammunition the damn thing could easily go on for ten minutes... the flames rose up up and up and we could feel the heat even from so far off. I still remember my ears would buzzzzz for some time afterwards.

And then we'd get off and run... run back home coz we'd want to see the thing repeat at the Shastri Nagar Ramlila grounds... You see this was our pada and they never failed to be late, drunk and clumsy while erecting the statue... the head fell off two hours before the final event once. The joke was it must have had some too. We were always sure no matter what the muhurt be.... Shastri Nagar will go off only once we reach there. And then the crazy began again! Wo-a-ha!

So you know exactly how I am feeling alone in an office for 50... remembering the times when ThumsUp was 2.5 Rs for a 500 ml bottle... when we'd rent 'Billu and Pinki' and 'Chacha Chowdhary' comics for 50 paise and played bare foot, barely clothed on the roads in hot summer days, hardly feeling a thing. When we bought kampat toffee (in case you are wondering... this is the Indian version of compacts... the sugar candies mostly of orange flavor) 10 for 10 paise. I now think I was stupid for ever wanting to grow up.