When we were young.
Or maybe I should say younger.
When we were devout.
Or should I say more devout.
Definitely more blessed.
There used to be a finale.
That was the children’s responsibility.
It used to be called the ‘Mangala Harathi’.
Most of our cousins were musically trained.
We of course were musically challenged.
Most of our cousins were musically talented.
We of course were musically tainted.
But sing we would, with more gusto.
Just to see our mother beaming.
And Dad squirming his discomfort.
Wishing that a nicotine wand
would smoke up a magic spell.
Then my Mama and Attha came back.
From bonnie Scotland. Without the kilt I may add.
And settled down on the shores of the Ganges.
And soon, it was Varanasi, here I come.
To see Granny. To see my cousins
Raju and Radhika who spoke English.
Who read the kind of books we read.
And wore similar threads. Well sometimes.
And it was on a trip to their house.
In the University Campus where Mama was a Prof.
That we first heard the song that would change our lives.
Of course we didn’t realize it then.
We heard it. Clapped along. Meditated.
And peaked at the crescendo.
A few months later, perhaps it was the next year.
We had forgotten our trip, definitely the song.
But Mom had not.
Out came a sheet of paper. With the lyrics.
And as the lamp was lit. As the bell started tinkling
in quivering hands. As the congregation got ready
to warm their hands over a camphorised flame.
Ready for the blessing by fire. We heard the words.
Pure Hindi. Sung with a distinctive Telugu flavour.
To the rescue we sang. Jumping into the fray unbidden.
Took over with what we assumed was a ‘shuddhar’ Hindi twang.
Not realizing then that Mom had achieved what she wanted.
She had us singing of our own volition.
Even today, when we hear the song ‘Om Jai Jagdeesh Hare’
We remember Granny. Mom. And Dad. Mama. Attha. Raju & Radhika.
Except now, we deliberately twist a few key words
into ‘pucca’ Telugu...with a smile.
That’s our way of counting the blessings.
That we know are being showered from up above.
