PARIJAT-14

His steps are lengthening little extra as John moved towards the car. The movements of hands are matching the steps. They are swinging to and fro with enthusiasm like the pendulum of the old wall clock extending that extra bit as the minutes’ hand stands vertically upright. It is a well deserved break for the John from the din and bustle of the construction site. An overnight car drive will take him to his village, a tiny village located on the bank of a river followed by vast stretch of fertile and cultivated lands of loamy soils. It is harvesting season.

Mid January is harvesting period when the harvesting festival of Makar Sankranti is celebrated in all over the India. It is celebrated in different names-Pongal in south, Makar Sankranti in west and east, Lohri in north and Bhogali Bihu in north-east. But the essence is the same. Basically it is a festival to thank and to pay respect to those who are associated with the harvesting. But what is a better way to thank and pay respect other than worship those? Hence cerebral Indian in fact worship those associated with harvesting. John knew that. He was well aware of that. Though he was a Catholic, he breathes the secular culture of India. Show your gratitude and worship those who stand by you. You are not belittling the Almighty by doing that. Rather you are uplifting those to the place of divinity. What is more divine than that?

Night is falling fast. The car has left the urban limit and fast approaching to the countryside. It is silent countryside. It has dozed off in the approach of night. John could hear nothing. Occasionally the driver of car is coughing. It is a sort of dry and non productive cough may be because of excessive smoking, a bad habit of eastern Indian. But they say it is sign grown up. If a boy smokes it is a sign that he has become matured and has started understanding the world. John smiled in the darkness. He knows it is absurd. A cover up.

A few hours from now, as the dawn approaches with mystical and lyrical beauty, John will reach home. The night is moving like an aspiring dream ever eager to touch the destination. He looked forward. He could visualize his village, his house surrounded by mango and jack fruit trees, those barking and but tail wagging friendly dogs, his octogenarian and yet agile father and the soft look of his mother, a look ever eager to see his son married and settled. She no longer asks John. Her looks convey. “We have grown too old my son, settle down and give us the luxury of playing with grand children. Our days are numbered’’.

John understands that look. He understands it very well. Who will understand that better? He pretends ignorance. He knows how to change that soft and melancholic look into a bubbling and sparkling look. He bends forward to touch her feet and in a sudden swift movement lifts her off the ground like a baby. He moves forward lifting his mother and asks, “Do we still have that tangy and sour green leaves in our garden. I want curry of those tangy leaves with small potatoes”. MARRIAGE IS OVER!

The forward movement of his thought dragged him to a galvanized sheet roofed house of the river bank, the most respected and yet the most feared house of his life. An old voice with squint look and flowing white beard is enquiring about his wellbeing. John is happy to hear that. But he fumbles like a school boy. Memory is forcing him back. He hears the voice as if asking him classical English grammar.

Tell me a sentence using “but” as noun and verb. Use the word “say” in similar manner. Give an example of “a” used as disguise preposition.

His teacher of childhood has grown old. He walks with a hunch. He carries the burden, the burden of the classical English. Yes, it has become burden for him. Nobody has appreciation for that classical English, old, obsolete, and outdated stuff. A teacher remains a teacher as we grow. He shows us the path and paves that for us. He walks along with us putting that reassuring and comforting hand on our back. As we move and cover that path to the ultimate destination, we find he is standing there to welcome us. Ever happy to see us successful in life. He is respected, always respected. He is a teacher and we need to stand in front of him with humble and humility of learning student though we might have grown big and successful.

Dawn is approaching fast. The eastern sky looks bright and crimson. It is the day of Makar Sankranti. It marks the movement of the Sun towards north for a period of six months. The Sun enters the zodiac sign of Capricorn.

As John approaches his village he could sense the smell of that harvesting festival. The road side shops have already opened. The shops are full of diamond shape kites of different colors. The septuagenarian Muthu at the construction site says this festival is more elaborate in south India in the name of Pongal. It is thanks giving in form of worship for four days. The first day celebration is called BHOGI when Rain God is worshipped. Homes are cleaned and washed and decorated with vermilion and sandalwood paste. This day symbolizes the concept, “New Order Replaces the Old”. The second day is called Surya pongal and is dedicated to the Sun God. The third is Mattu Pongal when cattle are worshipped for their contribution for harvesting in form of ploughing the land. The last days is called Kannum Pongal. This day is meant for visiting friends and relatives. Family and friendship ties are strengthened.

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The sour and tangy curry of lunch coupled with overnight traveling has resulted in a deep and much relaxing afternoon sleep for John. It has been long since he had such a relaxing day. He walked out of his house. The afternoon sky is covered with kites of different shape of colors. It is nostalgic. It is inviting. John took the string of a kite from a small boy and started flying it. In the bright light of the afternoon, he remembered a frail looking boy of past standing in one leg, reciting in half squeezed eyes with face full of expression and zeal.

BUT ME NO BUTS.

SAY YOURS’ SAY.

“HE IS ASLEEP.” MEANS “HE IS ON SLEEP.” USE OF “A” AS DISGUISE PREPOSITION.

The classical English grammar is on full flow.

For a moment John forgot that he has grown up with tickle of times. He has become bulky. He no longer has the balance and flexibility of the frail looking boy of the past. But still he ventured that one legged stand. His shifted centre of gravity pulled him down. The string of the kite slipped away from his hand as he fell in a twisting fashion. He did not wish to get up. Falling on his back in the lush green grass carpet John sees the kite flying away from him with happiness of a free bird. John did not wish to catch it. He did not wish to stop that. There is a joy in freedom. There is happiness in freedom. It is intrinsic. We love to have that. John murmured and smiled.

FLY WITH FLY OF FREEDOM.

PARIJATS, LET ME SMELL THAT ENCHANTING SMELLS FOREVER.