NAVARATRI – LADY’S
DAY OUT
Perhaps being in India for Navaratri after a long gap
permits me to share my experience.
Yes, these nine days of Navaratri - Dusshera, Dassara, Durga
Puja, Nav Raaten, or whatever you call it - belong exclusively to ladies. It is
theirs. Out and out. To be resplendent with the best sarees that all the year
were suffocating under the spell of naphthalene balls and pining to see the
light of the day – Kancheepuram-, Benaras-, Patola-, Venkatagiri-, Bengal-, or
Kashmir-silk - not to exclude the designer Lehengas, Anarkali (not in vogue?)
or other dresses that some prefer to don.
And what are supposed to be the householder’s rituals during
this time? Without daring to generalize, you are just a Spouse-in-Waiting -
ready to hand the lady the black comb, not the brown one; quickly iron just the
border of the saree before she completes her face-wash; give her a fresh towel
and not the one dried after bath; simultaneously make sure that the milk being
boiled doesn’t spill over (as on the other day – a clarification that is a
must).
You are asked to convey Mrs…on intercom that the lady of the
house (LOH) would join Mami at the count of fifteen (with no indication of how
many fifteens); to request the maid from the number stored in Madam’s mobile (a
totally different format from your basic version) to come for work either
before 5 or after 7.30 pm; tell the young couple downstairs not to count on us
for the music concert in Malleswaram, but will confirm later (still unwilling
to let go of the reins).
LOH interrupts her own monologue to announce that the
high-end French perfume that you bought for her birthday a couple of years ago
has lost its fragrance, and hints you should buy her another – and a better one
this time. “Certainly… on your next birthday,” you reassure her. “No. Next
birthday is too far off; now itself,” she asserts, too familiar with your
procrastinating game plan.
In between, just to keep up your spirits, she recounts the
comical scenes in Barfi and English Vinglish movies that we saw
recently. “Actually, we should see more of them, shouldn’t we,” she asks, unfolding
her real agenda, hoping you would commit off-guard with a ‘yes’.
The outdoor assignment for the festival included escorting
her to Ulsoor to Domlur to Basanvangudi to Bannerghata to Banasankari to Vijaya
Nagar to Rajarajeswari Nagar to Indira Nagar to JP Nagar to Yelahanka to... By
Vijayadasami, the final day, the Lanes, Mains, Crosses, and Circles in
Bangalore are as much in your fingertips as that of a double-shift auto
driver.
At each place, on arrival, the hostess pre-empts your
question with such remarks as: “My husband is on tour,” or, “…is stuck in
office with a deadline to meet,” as she escorts the lady to her Golu-display
room. “You can read today’s newspaper over there,” she adds as a solace. “That
is what I have been doing at all these places,” you are about to utter, but
restrain and respond, “Thank you.”
Left with no other option, you join the kids in their pranks
as their mothers update each other in the Golu room. You try to impress the
kids with ancient tricks and games. They shoot back, “These are too old,
Thatha”.
On way back, your shoulder bag is heavier by half a dozen
coconuts, bananas that lay smashed since, and prasadams having lost their individual
identity. “In the least, you could have separated the sweet prasadams from the
salted ones,” points the lady on opening the bag back home. “Anyway, I am full
and too tired to prepare dinner.
Can you make-do with this assortment and wash it down with a cup of milk
that I shall heat for you (a compromise gesture)? In any case you have been
wanting to lose weight; this could be a modest beginning,” she scores once
again.
V.V.
Sundaram
Bangalore
22 October
2012
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