My Journey Down The Memory Lane - Nostalgia Following my American tradition of early dinner, I ate before seven. It was too early for bed or to go back to room, I decided to walk in the market. All the shops were open and buzzed with the shoppers. Compact yet well stocked shops were lined up close to the street. General store the name said it all, that is if you spoke Indian English, it sold all household necessities. A friendly, knowledgeable pharmacist at the chemists shop reminded me of pharmacists on TV commercials, always ready to help. Kitchen store with neatly stacked up shiny, stainless steel pots and pans in latest shapes and sizes attracted every womans attention, it also had a sizable collection of plastic kitchen utensils in vibrant colors, ready made garment store hung childrens and ladies fancy outfits on the hangers, the concept of mannequin has not reached here yet. In this array of shops with everything you need, there was a Bangalore Cake Corner squeezed between two Jewelers, its wafting aroma of freshly baked bread brought back the memories, I could almost taste the breakfast bread my father used to buy. It had a distinct smell and taste when dipped in the hot, sweet tea Mami used to make on a wood burning stove. A thick bottom aluminum pot filled with tea, fresh milk and sugar added would be ready when we got up in the morning. Tea was always served in a small cup with a saucer to catch the spill. Bread was the Malvan speciality, would they still have it? Would it still smell and taste the way I remembered? I wondered. My mind came back to present when I walked by a no name Flower Shop with hanging fragrant fresh flower garlands. There was a shoe store with a very creative name Charan Sparsh (touch of the foot) foot wear and gift gallery though not much of gallery or a gift givers paradise, it served ppls needs. Though what attracted my attention the most was a two room store front which bore the sign trading company, not sure of what they were trading with whom, I admired a large old fashion weighing scale housed in one room, the proprietor was a very friendly gentleman detecting my curiosity, invited me to come in. Suppressing my desire to weigh myself, I only took a picture. Some street venders were selling fresh vegetables in front of the shops, I was impressed with the kind nature of the shopkeepers, who didnt seem to object to those street venders almost blocking the entrance to their shops. I am definitely not a shopper, not even a window shopper, I just enjoyed weaving thru the crowd looking around. Malvan had not changed from what I remembered, modernization and commercializations had missed this beautiful place maintaining the integrity of the place and honesty and kindness of the ppl. At nightfall the shops lights came on guiding the shoppers to their favorite places. Vegetable venders were now gone so did the cows and the stray dogs. In a distance I heard muffled music, loud band and louder fire crackers. Night was still young and I was curious, closer it got, clearer the Ganesh Arti became. It was supposedly 19 day Ganesh being taken to the ocean for Emerson, young men and boys were dancing to the rhythm of the music and the band. Impressive, large idol of Ganesha was being balanced on a handcart by men, followed by the women. I joined the celebration and walked with the ppl to the ocean for visarjan (Emerson). A boat was waiting to take the idol deep in the ocean accompanied by the men of the house, although women were very much part of the celebration, dancing was left to the boys and younger men. After extra long Arti on the beach, family finally had to say good buy to their favorite deity. Although I was not the family nor their guest, I felt sad when they gently put Ganesha in the boat and he slowly faded in the dark. With a heavy heart I returned to the hotel. I guess, it was meant to be that I witness Malvan Ganesh celebration. Malvan being predominantly Hindu community, Ganesh Chaturthi Is a very important celebration. Families from out of town and even out of country, come to their ancestral homes. I never met any of my grandparents, after the passing of my grandfather Gansha was celebrated in my uncles house in Mumbai yet I felt the loss of Mami and felt sad, thinking about the empty house I had yet to visit, in this beautiful village, Malvan.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 14:22:24 +0000
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