BabyR pops in for a bit before going to (play)school. Wakes me up. I don’t know a better way to wake up. Goldie comes and cuddles for a few minutes, giving my spirit time to catch up. Before I know it, Dadi is telling me a story, this time about the babas of the world who know futures and pasts. “Our family never believed in them” she insists, but she has stories from families who do. Ahsti baba is violent – he slaps, and hurls stones but cures and gives babies. Another baba makes perfect life decisions. A family awaits their father who drowned in a river, for 6 years.
I sit and think of all the anthropology and psychology concepts that apply here. The human psyche is so vulnerable to hope and greedy for it. I tell Dadi this could be my new profession or my master’s thesis. Mummy makes a quip about helping out in domestic affairs first. I begin to help Dadi peel roasted peanuts, and am saved by the return of the tiny babyR from school. Refusing to take her bag off, she roams around the house making sure everything is in place. She peekaboos R when she comes out of the bathroom, and enjoys it so much that she tells R to do it over (and over). R gives me a look that says “How do I explain the concept of peekaboo to her?” Picture that.
BabyR’s mum wants to take her to bathe, but she is distracted by a “chacho ki dhaar tez karvalo” outside. This guy goes around on his bicycle sharpening knives of Amravati. My mumma, babyR, and Goldie run to the balcony. Strategically align themselves so they can see the Chackowala at work. Picture that balcony in its monsoon sunlight.
BabyR leaves, finally, to bathe. R makes coffee, just as we like it. She hums while she makes it to any song that is on her mind. It mixes with the mundane songs of domesticity. We share a mug. We also share a Netflix we watch tv shows on at night. We are watching ‘Stories by Ravindranath Tagore’ and finished ‘Chokar Bali’ yesterday. I know that Bali means eyesore in Bengali. I am going to use it in my daily dialogue casually.
I sit down and start on my Illustrator tutorials for the day. When I get done with a day’s experiment, I mail it to P. She gives me feedback the next morning. Later when I (hardly) work on a college excel sheet and the portfolio, I worry about being comfortably cooped up in stagnancy. After I close shop, we take babyR for a walk. Everything around is lush green. Creepers on trees next to trees between tall grass. Picture that. Fecund, I learned it can be called. We walk less, stand, and stare more. We wait hand-in-hand, looking up in concentration at two squirrels. ‘Kharu tai’, she calls them. Tai means elder sister. Monkey is ‘bandar mama’(mama: sister’s brother). Marathi has more names for relations than English. I wonder if there is a term to classify that. I make a mental note to check the internet later and run behind these elder sister squirrels jumping from tree to tree.
As I do, I see Goldie running towards the road behind another pup. Behind him, also running, to catch him is mummy. I join her. We run past the trees with the squirrels, the ground where children play cricket, past the tiny ironing shops all the while gathering people like a rolling snowball, an analogy that feels shy when used in Vidarbha, but I am being indulgent. Two boys on their bicycle, 1 on his feet, a brown dog with a white spot, and a curious bike rider join us. Picture that. We catch Goldie, and bring him home.
I always return in some haste to my study with its window looking out upon fields and parks. The sunlight has ripened. It is doing my favorite thing it does. It divides itself on the window railing and only illuminates some parts of the room. I sit in the yellow light at my desk, while R lays on the discarded couch we snuck into the room. Picture that. I read her my favorite Ruskin Bonds, which are basically the introductions from all his books. He writes about his longing for something lost, about how that has been the theme of all his writing. His love for railway stations and finding solace at study windows.