If I cld I wld turn into a fairy and gift every child the gift of my childhood. When I was growing up next to our home lived a large family of Muslims and last week I met my old friend Noor Jahan after decades.(I made her fav ghee payasam and served it on dried leaf) She and her three sisters were our playmates and we practically lived in each others homes .Both our families embraced each others religion and culture without any reservation or difficulty .As a child I was filled with wondrous novelty when I went to their house. .The deep red carpet with huge flower motifs ..( my whole being filled and over awed by its magnificence ).....the colored salon doors ( thro which I squinted to see a world transformed by color into a wonderland).....the Arabic letters woven in silk that hung in their inner room in glossy golden yellow frames (my fascination endless on seeing the loops and curves of Arabic letters...) the strict Arabic tutor whose throat seemed to be full from the rush of words ...., the wooden stove in one end of their kitchen that blew smoke rings ....,the grains that were stored in the corner of the store room.... the chickens that wandered around in and out of the house .... the shiny brass spittoon that their grand-mom used to dispose of excess juice by spitting thro her fingers ...the lone chicken egg that I spotted amidst the grains.. .( generating so much excitement in me ).....the tea parties with mud cakes..... the banquets we made out of the simplest food ... the hopscotch that we played on hastily drawn chalk squares .... the crammed spaces that we crawled into playing hide and seek .... the prasadams.... from the temple that we shared (..the ghee payasam served on leaf being Noorjahans favorite) .. the patient way my friends sat next to us in our home when we sat on wooden planks and chanted our Hindu prayers under the strict eyes of my very religious mom . ... the temple festivals we attended with fingers entwined tightly .. all wearing pattu pavadais from Nalli (Courtesy my mom) .....There was no feeling of otherness or separation... no need to conceal our love and affection for each others families ... no apologies for partaking in each others religious functions ....Now with suspicion bubbling beneath the surface of society ...it is sad that .this kind of affection is a bruise .....a bruise that needs to be concealed from society like the bruises of a battered wife ...
Posted on: Fri, 11 Jul 2014 07:00:12 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015