Q is for Questions

In the first decade of my life, say between four and seven years of age, the following three questions (along with their sub-questions) occupied my thoughts and dreams:

Question #1: What magic makes the woollens shrink in the trunk?
Early October, every year, the big trunk in the store room was opened and emptied out. Warm clothes stored in it were aired in the sun to prepare for the inevitable winter. Shrunken balls of naphthalene would roll out of the creases of warm jackets, knitted jumpers and sweaters made by my mother and shawls with Kashmiri embroidery that were stored with extra special care (usually wrapped in old muslin cloth). Despite the mandatory airing, the smell of naphthalene would cling to all those clothes for a good few weeks. Even now, that smell takes me back to the in-between time of the year when autumn is almost out and winter is just getting started.

I remember being made to stand by the big trunk while my mother took out sweaters and 'garam baniyane' warm vests, knitted with white or cream coloured wool, which we wore under our white school shirts. Overpowered by the strong naphthalene smell and the scratchy wool, I'd squirm and squiggle and get my ears pulled or bottom smacked to stand still. Almost always, my favourite sweater would be declared too small for me and passed on to my sister. 

Who makes my clothes small every year? Are there fairies who live in the trunk? Are they related to the little people who live in our radio? Why don't they shrink Daddy's suits or Mummy's favourite 'angoori' (green like grapes) cardigan? 

Question #2: How do people move houses?
Do they get a huge saw, squat and start sawing at the base of the house? How do they load the house on a truck? How big is this truck? Do houses have roots like Papaji's (my grandfather) radishes? Those milky white ones he yanks out of the soil, shakes off the dirt before offering them to us to eat, ignoring my mother's instructions to wash EVERYTHING. 

'A little dirt will only make you stronger.' he would say and take a big crunchy bite of the unwashed white radish that tasted like sweet milk.

And the last one is deep...real deep:

Question #3: How does Rajesh Khanna (Indian film super star of the seventies) come back to life every Sunday? 
There was a time when I was perhaps six or seven, Doordarshan (Indian TV channel) telecast Rajesh Khanna's three super hit films in quick succession. They were Aradhana, Anand and Safar. He dies in each one of them and in two of the films his death scenes were so potent, our entire neighbourhood was in floods of tears. We were one of the first houses to get a black and white TV set, thanks to my father.  It was quite normal for a crowd to gather around our TV set every Sunday evening for the film. In fact, once the TV had to be moved out into the veranda to accommodate all the people. It was a religious film, I think. I wasn't interested. But I remember watching a neighbour climb up the guava tree in our veranda to secure the best seat in the house.

Back to the question--this business of Rajesh Khanna dying, followed by my crying and feeling sorry for him and not being able to sleep because 'babumoshaye' (famous dialogue piece) kept ringing in my ears and then finding him frolicking around trees or cracking jokes with Amitabh Bachhan a few Sundays later, did my head in. 

My grandmother's tales of reincarnation didn't sit well with what I was witnessing at a young and impressionable age. Who was this super hero who died of cancer and then came back looking just like his old self, all grown up, a few weeks later only to die of cancer again?

***********

The only question that haunts me these days is: Do I look fat in this?

I guess, I was more evolved when I was little. 

A couple of years ago, at a school fair, I spotted two photographs that reminded me of question number two of my childhood.

The first photograph is at the top of this post. The second one is here, along with an explanation:

A bit about the photo at the top of this post...

I'm reminded of this oft shared quote of one of my all-time favourite writers: Roald Dahl.

G is for Gibran

It's my second day in Budapest. After yesterday's harshness, hope today's post will soothe you.

How I came about Khalil (or Kahlil) Gibran's poetry, I cannot recall. That his words bring me solace when I need it, is true.

'The Prophet' is the kind of book you can dip into, open a page, read it and realize that it's what you needed to read that day, that moment -- to make sense of what's going on around you or just to reconfirm what the little voice inside you was saying all along but you were too busy with the business of living to stop and listen to it.

Today, I'm sharing some of my favourite lines from this book. These words have been my guardian angels, I hope they'll bring you the answers you seek today. All the quotes that follow come from this book.

About marriage, he says...

"Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

....

And stand together yet not too near together.

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

"Speak to us of Children. 
And he said:

...And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you."

The librarian of this Universe knows what I need to read and when because books like The Prophet appear on my horizon, as if by magic, just when I'm seeking the answers. Thank you Librarian.

While flipping through the pages of this book to find quotes for this post, I come across words that seem new, or maybe I'm reading them after a very long time. I've been 'preaching' my family and friends (a lot lately) about healthy eating, exercise, yoga and all those things that I find helpful. The message is clear. I need to calm down:)

"Speak to us of Good and Evil.

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

You are not evil when you go thither limping.

Even those who limp go not backwards.

.....

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.

In your longing for your giant self lies your

goodness: and that longing is in all of you.

....

But let not him who longs much say to him who

longs little, 'Wherefore are you slow and halting?"

For the truly good ask not the naked, 'Where is your garment?' nor the houseless, 'What has befallen your house?'

These lines are such a timely reminder. I've been riding on my high horse of yoga and fresh fruit for a tediously long while now.

I stop myself short of gossiping about other people but scratch my surface and you will find a long snaking train of opinions running on tracks of judgment I laid down years ago. The train may have got upgraded and doesn't rattle that loudly these days, so you don't hear the gossiping that goes on inside.

Ivy League, really? Why only Ivy League? That's a bit tight on her, right? Are designer bags all they can talk about? She can do without that second helping of chips. How can they spend so much on a wedding and so little for charity? Oh! You don't want to be standing on this platform--I can tell you that.

Being mindful of my actions and reactions is my new goal but I'm a work in progress. Books like The Prophet and wise men and women like Gibran are my crutches and coaches while I hobble along.

Doha Film Institute is responsible for a stunning animated film based on this book and Salma Hayek is responsible for bringing the film to fruition. If you love art and animation, you will LOVE this film. It got mixed reviews from the critics. Who cares. I was mesmerized.

Here's the official trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwQbMxDcRGE

enjoy...