I was 3 when my parents sent me to live with my grandparents. That is the first time I remember thinking things. The first school, the first best friend, the first time I was allowed to go to a shop alone, it all happened in Nasik, with them. Nani would pass mint off as chocolate. Nana would take me to watch Kuch Kuch Hota Hai in the theatre, twice. He would get me a big Milky bar to eat while at the movie. They would take me to a river just to sit at the bank. Nana would teach me to lose with grace when his stone would land in water not as far as mine. They would teach me to cross the road, catch a train, to cash a check. I would carry a torn check for 20 rupees to a bank manager who would cash it, even though it is invalid because it was important to give the child a lesson in humanity.
25 years later, I still cling to my milky bar for comfort each time I am saddened by Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. I adamantly believe in the inherent goodness of humans in spite of all the cheating, yelling, and grabbing they do. And every time I see a parijat plant shower flowers on the ground, I am instantly transported to that chapter of my life. I always pick some up and smell the time Nani and I would pick parijat for the tiny temple in our house. I needed a dining table chair to stand on, to come to the level one must be to be able to pray to a god. I would stand on the chair alongside Nani to sing sukha karta dukha harta, and humko maan ki shakti dena, which would be sung in mummy’s hospital many years later.
When I post pictures of it on Instagram, people text, and share their stories. My friend used to call it biryani because when many are held together they look like biryani. White and orange. Another one would tell me about her picking parijat from the road with her grandmother every morning in another part of this tiny world. At the same time, separately. It warms my heart. If childhood experiences, really do form us, we must, all 618 of us, be connected at this point in time by a bunch of experiences, some movies, these flowers, and smells. And I think this is a reassuring thing.
