Gujarat chronicles
Year- 2000
This post is to recount the day I set foot in the place that
was going to be my home for the next two and a half years. Gujarat.
After tearfully bidding goodbye to Pune, the 9-year old me was in no mood to adjust to
a new place all over again. However, as usual my thoughtful opinions on the matter
of moving from one place to another were dismissed with a ‘Oh it’s okay, you’ll
adjust’ by my parents. Okay fine so my ‘thoughtful opinions’ were more in the
form of some incessant bawling. But still. They do count as important opinions
in a 9-year old’s dictionary. Anyway none of my emotional atyachaars worked and
I found myself following my parents reluctantly to our new destination.
courtesy- Google Images
courtesy- Google Images
So after a gruelling train journey we finally reached
Gujarat and made our way to the house that we were supposed to be staying in.
Since the household stuff that was sent from Pune had not arrived yet, we found
ourselves standing in an empty and dusty house. To my surprise, I took an
instant liking towards the house and started inspecting the rooms, all the
while making sure to pretend that I was completely disinterested in the whole
process (although it was awfully difficult to not squeal in delight when I
discovered that the house even had a cute little room in the basement.).
Anyway, we were to have lunch at our neighbour’s place who
incidentally, were our house-owners too.
Mr.G, our houseowner, lived with his wife, three children
and a dog. Now he was the quintessential rich businessman, complete with a
potbelly, a thick moustache and with a gold watch dangling off his wrist even
while casually sitting at home. His main hobbies were gossiping, sitting on the
balcony and surveying(read stalking) the neighbourhood, ordering his wife
around and stealthily allowing his dog to pee and poop in front of the
neighbouring houses.
His wife, Mrs.G, was
the perfect embodiment of a Hindi serial heroine. She was quiet, minded her own
business, followed her lazy husband’s orders, cooked food and in her free
hours, cleaned the house. Yes, you heard it right. She was deliriously obsessed
with cleaning each and every inch of her house till it was spick and span and
neat and tidy and clean and clear. On most days, you could see her frantically
scrubbing away at some spot, which was invisible to the naked eye but yet
clearly visible to her, on some wall of her house.
Now Mrs. G seemed to have passed on her love of cleaning and
scrubbing to her three children (two daughters and a son) who also spent
considerable amount of their time cleaning and scrubbing. And if it was festival
time the entire family (minus Mr. G, of course ) could be seen sitting and
scrubbing away to glory. The son loved cleaning the car in particular. And his
absolute favourite pastime was opening and banging shut the doors of his car as
loudly as possible in the afternoon when you try to lie down for a nap.
The dog, like every other dog, loved barking. The only
speciality of this dog was that, more than barking at strangers, it loved
barking at its owners. It also loved barking for absolutely no reason. So
basically it just kept barking all the time.
Anyhow, we popped over to their house in order to have lunch.
Mrs. G came out of her abode, the kitchen, and asked us sweetly if we wanted
some water first. The tired souls that we were, we immediately accepted the
offer. When she came back with the glasses of cold water, I pounced on a glass
and hastily gulped some of the water down my parched throat.
Ugh. Something was wrong with the water.
It was SALTY. It felt like I had swallowed a cup of sea
water.
I stopped with my hasty water drinking and proceeded to the
dining table for lunch. Mrs. G plonked a large amount of rice onto my plate and
ladled a big spoon of daal on top of the mound of rice. I mixed it up hurriedly
and scooped a large portion of it into my mouth. Only to discover that I
shouldn’t have done that.
The daal was SWEET. In fact, there was loads of sugar in
almost everything.
Till date, I don’t know how I finished that meal.
Post this disastrous lunch, we came back home only to find
that Mrs.G and her army of invisible-spot- cleaners, armed with their favourite
tools ( a bucket of water and a mop), had taken over our house. Amidst
scrubbing every corner of our house she managed to induct us into her army too
by employing us as the minions who supply her with filled buckets of water. Any
feeble protest of ours saying “That’s enough..thank you” was met with an air of
indifference and requests for more water to wash the floor for the 456th
time. By that point, we were all so tired that we would have gladly poured a
bucket of her water on HER. But we had a strong feeling that that wouldn’t stop
her.
Anyway, we were not
off to a very good start. On that day, I would’ve never thought that I would
fall in love with this place eventually.
More on that and other Gujarat chronicles, in my upcoming
posts :)
Ha ha ha ha...:D
ReplyDeleteForgot to mention about our dinner there..?
I hate that place maninly due to those over interferring, cleaning-obsessed neighbours/house owners..
very nicely written... good choice of words..!!!
ReplyDelete