Silly little heart

“Memsaab, it’s a ritual to offer shagun on the ‘muh dikhai’ of a kid!” the Phoolwala boy said, carefully placing 11 rupees on the white cloth wrapped around my 1 month old, younger brother.

‘At this small age, you are such a smarty!’ my mom exclaimed, blessing the phoolwala munna with her eyes and a tender smile.

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A  new-born girl wrapped in a cotton cloth, a girl in pampers and baby attires, a girl in frock and hair clips, a girl in cotton inner under her top, a girl trying to get ‘used- to’ wearing a brassiere, and finally a lady with ‘Victoria’s secrets’ purple 36 size lingerie …oh! I have bloomed on this land called ‘Nathdwara’; a small village in Rajasthan state.

White, wheatish , dark, poor, wealthy…oh! The unnamed Rush of people in the narrow lanes, people gathered at the stalls of - ‘Phudinawala doodh’ , Rabdi, Thor, Shikanji, - walas ; like ants attacking a sugar cube, ‘Mara Ghatma biraaj ta…’ like bhajans being played in the CD shops with high decibels,  gulab, mogra, lotus, champa, juhi…oh ya! Phoolwalas siiting outside the temple threshold, Tilak, mala, mugat, naitra, vastra, … shops selling all the accessories concerned with Thakorji and ladoo gopal, ‘Tours and Travels’ , ‘Taxi on rent’ were the charms of ‘Taxi Naaka’ and the ‘Nathdwara temple’ the crux of Nathdwara and the sole reason for our family to visit that holy heaven. Ahhh! ‘Munna’ the sole reason for me to visit that Phoolwala village!

 

Offering flowers to God is considered as a good omen and so my parents always used to do that ritual, buying a whole lot of different colored decorated flowers from the phoolwalas and especially from Shayambabu. After so many years of our visits to that place, shayambabu was like a family friend and his son, may be 4-5 years elder to me was also the darling of my parents due to his alluring social skills.

‘Shyambabu, munna ko shehar bhejo, vo bada hoke afsar banega…dekh liyoo!’ my father always saw a spark in that little chap and his words reflected the same. After all, behind munna’s efficient façade was his vulnerability that drew people to him like iron filings to a magnet.

Oily military cut hairs, fair skin (Umm…fairer than mine!),a silver ear ring on his left ear, a red Kankoo tilak on his forehead, a tulsi mala in his neck, attire announcing his poor taste for clothes, slippers which make me feel pity on him and crispy attention grabbing Rajasthani hindi on his tongue!  I had never actually talked with him as …what to talk, how to talk, is it right to talk with a Phoolwala ladka? Oh! Such questions always haunted me.

Party bug, tequila lover, ’Always-with-male friends’ species, shopping hungry, a true glutton…and a girl who never allows anyone to ruin her mascara...oh! That’s I. I just witness that poor little chap …ya!  That Phoolwala munaa once in a year. And Kahaani khatam. See him. Stare at him. Judge him …all was ok. After all, he was a different species of man in comparison to those ‘yo-yo’ kinds of studs we have in our city.

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“Madam, entry inside the temple is not allowed, without clothes.” instructed a grumpy watchman standing at the entrance of the temple.

I gave a second look to my clothes, a simple white semi transparent top, and pants. I guess he had problem with my navel which was being displayed by my top.

I gave him an ugly look. A frowned face. A ‘Tere-baap-ka-kya-jata-hai’ signal from my eyes. And went away. I was sensible enough to have gulped down those- ‘Fuck’ ‘Dumbass’, ‘Result of broken condom’-bubbling within my red face.

Oh yeah! Going to ‘Nathdwara’ from Mumbai seems like a total change of planet. Unnoticed things in Mumbai were taboo in this village. I am labeled as a ‘Nincompoop’ when I narrate all such ‘Taboo’ stories of this village to Varun…and I always compel him to eye witness all such ‘Not-so-easy-to-digest’ stuff of this village.

Varun- my childhood chum, someone who is in complicated relationship with me since my birth, a 6’2 man with dusky skin, deep pockets, flourishing career in International business, owner of ‘Tamanna’ beach house and… is also the sole owner of THIS ‘Tamanna’ aka ‘Tammy’!

Nathdwara, Varun, Mom-dad, Phoolwala…all was picture perfect but life was about to show me its true colors...And I was ready to tie my seat belts to experience that roller coaster ride….

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My 21^st trip to Nathdwara was like any other such visit , we unpacked our luggage in ‘New cottage’ , got ready and started marching towards the temple but I felt the electric shock when , while entering the temple my eyes fall on that  Phoolwala munna (As usual!) , I was adjusting my hair bun with my hands when I saw a lady (ditto Sonakshi Sinha of Dabangg)coming from the front with a decorated flower plate, she was fair enough, healthy and had, set of red bangles shining on her wrist,  mangal sutra in her neck, sindur on her forehead, oh! A true buxom figure with deep back blouse which somewhat failed to conceal her white bra’s strip.

Bichari I, the skinny doll, just looked like bones before her!

Soon that lady took her place besides munna. My God! She sat so close to him. So close. (Avoiding the fact that the Phoolwala had nothing but a small mat to sit and sell his phools!)

Hey, stop being bitchy! I couldn’t help the pang of envy that clutched my heart.

His bhabhi. Someone who is falling for munna. May be his sister. May be just another flower vendor. Or even a stranger…My maths is indeed poor still I was trying to make out all the possible probabilities of munna’s relation with that buxom lady.

What was that? Jealousy. Infatuation. Heartache. Betrayal…or just an emotional fling. God knows!

Munna and I had never talked. He didn’t propose me. I wasn’t not falling for that ‘Chumpu’ when I have dudes like Varun in my circle.  But still there was something, a question ‘what is my real rishtaa with that guy?!’

Alas! I went cold with the feeling that I was fighting a losing battle. My destination was as unclear as my journey. Further I just picked a good excuse and a flight to Mumbai.

‘Is that munna the reason of my pain?’ I asked myself.

No Jawabs Naturally!

 

‘Babul ki duaee leti jaa…’ this song was finally played when I turned 23.

Undoubtedly, Varun turned my Prince charming.  And when the time arrived of going for our ‘Honeymoon’, I decided to start my married life after visiting Nathdwara, after all from past 2 years I avoided facing that place. And for the first time in my life I was going to a spiritual land for a spiritual purpose instead of....

Wrapped in a plain red saree, sindur on my forehead, a short designer mangal sutra on my neck, Kohl in my eyes, trimmed open hairs and Varun’s hand in mine…Ahh! My loveliest ornament.

While entering the temple, I took a never ending pause. As Varun went inside the temple for his offerings, my eyes popped out seeing a kid wrapped in white clothes placed in munna’s lap. My entire world went sour. The old feelings that always lurked in the hidden corners inside me, crouching between my lungs, swimming in my blood, now came upon me more hideously than ever.

Will ‘Munna’ ever realize that love story which started from my eyes and ended in   my tears?

I went to munna’s place; carefully placing 11 rupees on the white cloth wrapped around that kid in his lap. With this he fixed his eyes containing only ganga-jaal feeling, on me.“It’s a ritual to offer shagun on the ‘muh dikhai’ of a kid!” saying this; I moved ahead towards a new life, towards a new ‘Me’. It was almost as though I were saying goodbye to all those past years and walking into a new life leaving behind everything I had once loved.

Alas! Most of our life stories are not scripted by Shakespeare. Many of us have to accept, carry on, smile, pretend …and the most important of all; Move On!

 

From Janvi’s honey bag

A worm in a cocoon is not so harmful, but when as a moth it flies away that is when the trouble starts. It is difficult to bring it back. Better don’t think, don’t wait; change the chapter instead of aimlessly sticking to it due to your silly little heart, ‘Just do it’. Nike couldn’t be possibly wrong!