आठवणीतली मोठीआई !

बाबांच्या आईला आम्ही मोठीआई म्हणत असू. गव्हाळ वर्णाची ठेंगणी-ठुसकी मोठीआई नऊवारी लुगडे नेसत असे. कानात मोत्याच्या कुड्या, गळ्यात सोन्याची साखळी, हातात सोन्याच्या पाटलीवजा बांगड्या, अशी तिची राहणी त्या काळानुसारच होती. लक्षात राहण्यासारखे काही वेगळे होते तर तिचे लांबसडक केस. ती आपल्या केसांची खूप काळजी घेत असे. तेल लावून रोज मोठ्ठा जाडजूड आणि गोल आंबाडा घालत असे. तिच्या केसांना चुकून आमचा हात लागला तर ते तिला खपत नसे.

आमची आजी म्हणून तिची ओळख श्रीमती लक्ष्मीबाई जोशी अशी असली तरी तिचे माहेरचे नांव तारा करजगीर होते. तिचा जन्म अंदाजे १९०५-१९१०च्या दरम्यान झाला असावा. राजस्थान मधील निंबाहेडा हे तिचे माहेर होते. पण ती आणि तिच्या माहेरचे लोक त्याला "लिंभाडा " म्हणत असत. तिच्याबरोबर लहानपणी "लिंभाड्याला" गेल्याचे मला आठवते. पण ती आठवण पुसटच आहे. तीन बहिणी आणि दोन भाऊ अश्या भावंडांपैकी मोठीआई मधली बहीण होती. तिची मोठी बहीण इंदूरलाच असे, आणि धाकटी इंदूरच्या जवळ धारला. तिच्या भावाच्या मुलांपैकी खूपजण इंदूरला होते, आणि ते सगळे त्यांच्या "जिजीआत्या" ला भेटायला वरचेवर आमच्या घरी येत असत.

मी आणि माझी बहीण लहानपणीपासून नेहमीच मोठीआई जवळ झोपायचो. झोपता-झोपता तिच्याकडून ऐकलेल्या रामायण-महाभारतातील गोष्टी अजूनही आठवणीत आहे. ती शाळेत गेली नाही, पण तिला लिहिता-वाचता येत होते. ती पत्रव्यवहार करायची, वर्तमानपत्र वाचायची, हिशेब लिहायची, पोथ्या वाचायची, वहीत भजने आणि पदे लिहायची. दासबोध, हरिविजय तिच्या संग्रही होते. हरिविजय तर बाइंडिंग नसलेली पोथी होती. तिची सुटी पानें कापडी आवरणात व्यवस्थित ठेवलेली असायची.  

आमच्या मालकीचे एक घर इंदूरच्या जवळ बडवाहला होते. तिथे काही कुटुंब भाड्याने रहात असत. आम्ही इंदूरला होतो. भाडेकऱ्यांसाठी सगळी दृष्टीआड सृष्टीच होती. खूप लोक भाडे बुडवून निघून जायचे आणि आम्हाला पत्ताही लागायचा नाही. कधीमधी भाड्याची मनी ऑर्डर यायची. पोस्टकार्डवर कुणाकुणाची पत्रें देखील यायची. तो सगळा व्यवहार मोठीआईच बघायची. मी तिच्या बरोबर एक-दोनवेळा बडवाहला गेल्याचे आठवते. नागेश्वरपट्टीतल्या त्या घराचीही अंधुकशी आठवण आहे.

 माझ्या लहानपणीच माझ्या आजोबांचे निधन झाले त्यामुळे मोठीआई आणि आजोबांना बरोबर पाहिलेले मला आठवत नाही. मोठीआई आजोबांची दुसरी पत्नी होती. आजोबा महाराणी इंदिराबाई होळकरांकडे खाजगीत मोठ्या हुद्द्यावर होते. ते महाराणी साहेबांबरोबर युरोपला जाऊन आले होते. आजोबा चांगलेच उंच होते. दोघांच्या उंचीत आणि वयात बऱ्यापैकी अंतर होते.

मोठीआई श्रीमती भागीरथीबाई वैद्य नांवाच्या आध्यात्मिक गुरूंची शिष्या होती. त्यांचे सर्व शिष्य त्यांना गुरुमहाराज आणि त्यांच्या जागेला बंगला म्हणायचे. बंगल्यावर दर रविवारी कीर्तन असायचे. कीर्तनाला तिथे कथा म्हणत असत. सर्व शिष्य आळीपाळीने कथा करत. मोठीआई देखील कथा करायची. गुरूपौर्णिमेला मोठा उत्सव असायचा. बंगल्यावरचा कुठलाही कार्यक्रम मोठीआई कधी चुकवत नसे. तिचे गुरुबंधू आणि गुरुभगिनी तिला जोशीवहिनी म्हणून संबोधत. लहानपणी आम्हीपण बरेच वेळा मोठीआई सोबत बंगल्यावर कथेला जायचो. शिवाय गुरुपौर्णिमेला तिथे शेकडो शिष्य आपापल्या कुटुंबासकट जेवायला जायचे. श्लोकांच्या गजरात पत्रावळींवरच्या जेवणाच्या पंगती उठत.

आमच्या घरी गुरु महाराजांची मोठी तसबीर भिंतीवर लागलेली होती. शाळेत जातांना त्या तसबिरीला नमस्कार करून जायचे असे मोठीआईने सांगितले होते आणि ते आमच्या अंगवळणी पडले होते. आमच्याकडच्या चमेलीच्या वेलीला त्यावेळी खूप फुले येत असत. मोठीआई अर्धोन्मिलित कळ्यांचा हार करून त्या तसबिरीला घालत असे. त्या उमलल्या की त्यांचा घमघमाट घरात पसरे. मोठीआई सकाळी उठून देवघरात बसून काही पदे गुणगुणायची. त्यातील "वाकुनी टाक सडा राधिके वाकुनी टाक सडा", "चित्ती तुमचे पाय डोळा रूपाचे ध्यान" आणि "लिजो रे कन्हैया बिडी पानन की लिजो लिजो रे" अजूनही माझ्या आठवणीत आहेत.

मोठीआई बरेच सोवळेओवळे पाळायची. सगळे कुळधर्म कुळाचार व्यवस्थितरित्या पाळले गेले पाहिजेत ह्याकडे तिचा कटाक्ष असायचा. मोठीआई आणि आई दोघी मिळून दरवर्षी सगळे सणवार आणि कुळाचार साग्रसंगीतरित्या करायच्या. बरेच उपाससुद्धा असायचे. आम्ही लहान होतो त्यामुळे आम्ही रोजच्यासारखे जेवायचो पण मोठीआई तिच्या फराळातल्या थालीपिठाचा तुकडा किंवा साबुदाणा खिचडीचा घास न चुकता आम्हाला द्यायची आणि ते फार चविष्ट असायचे. कधी-कधी जेवतांना पोळ्या कमी पडायच्या. मग मोठीआई भरपूर तूप घालून जाड्या कणिकेचा पानगा करायची. तो इतका छान लागायचा की चार घास जास्तच खाल्ले जायचे. तिच्या हातच्या घडीच्या पोळ्या किंवा बाट्या अप्रतिम असायच्या.

गाडीवर विकायला येणाऱ्या फळांपैकी मोठीआई जवळ-जवळ रोज काहीतरी विकत घ्यायची. आणि त्याचे तीन भाग करून आम्हा तिघांसाठी काढून ठेवायची. घरी यायला कुणाला उशीर झाला तर स्वयंपाकघराच्या दारात उंबऱ्यावर पाणी पिण्याचे भांडे पालथे घालायची. कुठल्याही वस्तूला विशेषतः पुस्तकाला किंवा कागदाला चुकून पाय लागला तर नमस्कार करायला सांगायची. त्याची इतकी सवय झाली की तो आता आपोआपच केला जातो. पितृपक्षात नवे कपडे विकत घ्यायचे नाहीत, चातुर्मासात कांदे खायचे नाहीत असे तिचे नियम होते. दरवर्षी पितृपक्ष संपल्याबरोबर आम्ही दिवाळीसाठी नव्या कपड्यांची खरेदी करायचो.

मोठीआई आपल्या जुन्या झालेल्या लुगड्यांना मशीनवर शिवून त्यांच्या चौघड्या तयार करायची. त्या खूप ऊबदार आणि मऊ असायच्या. मी कितीतरी वर्षें त्या चौघड्याच पांघरून झोपत असे. कुठल्याही चादरीला चौघडीची सर येत नाही. १२ सप्टेंबर १९९५ला वृद्धापकाळाने मोठीआईला देवाज्ञा झाली. तिच्या चौघड्यांप्रमाणे तिच्या आठवणींची ऊब इतक्या वर्षांनंतर अजूनही मनात आहे. 

Remembering Vasant Kaka!

It was 1980 or early 1981. I was a year into my job as a journalist at the Times Of India group in Mumbai. All through my school life I had idolised some of my teachers who happened to be Bengali. Their excellence in teaching, their simple lifestyle, and their starched white sarees with different borders, all of it made a deep impression on my young mind. Later, my love for all things Bengali (except fish--I am a vegetarian--), and whatever I had read and heard about Shantiniketan made me want to go there and see for myself the extraordinary institution founded by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore .

I had known noted author, actor, orator Vasant Potdar--Vasant Kaka as we used to call him--since I was a child. He was a close friend of my father, and would visit our house whenever he was in Indore. Every visit of his was like a breath of fresh air, and the stories he used to tell would open windows to a new world for us. I used to be fascinated by his towering personality, his booming voice, and above all the wondrous accounts of his life that he would share with us. I was a mere schoolgirl with hardly any exposure to the outside world. It was long before the internet era, and we had very limited access to information. Vasant Kaka had been living in Kolkata (Calcutta in those days) for a long time, had mastered Bangla, and used to write for Bengali newspapers and magazines. He also performed several of his one-act plays in Bangla. He knew many writers, actors, artists, singers, musicians etc from close quarters. His rich experiences acquired from years of travelling made him a rare storehouse of amazing anecdotes that he used to narrate in his inimitable style.

He also possessed a great ability to spot a spark of talent in somebody when he saw one. He would then encourage the person to pursue it, and would help him or her in whichever way possible. I loved to pen short stories and was really an amateur. But he would always ask me if I had written anything new, would go through it, would appreciate my efforts, and would give me useful tips on how to improve on it. All this helped me build a good rapport with him.

So no wonder, when I thought of realising my dream of visiting Shantiniketan from Mumbai, Vasant Kaka's name was the first to come to my mind. He was in Kolkata, and he welcomed the idea of my visit. We planned the whole trip by exchanging letters, and one fine day, I was on my way to Kolkata in a coach of the Gitanjali Express. No phones, no messages in those days! Vasant Kaka was at the Howrah station to pick me up.

I did not have a camera, and I have no pictures from the trip. He took me to Shantiniketan as promised. He showed me around giving background information about various places. The serene campus of the Visva-Bharati, its greenery resplendent against the red soil, the beautiful art and sculpture at the Kala Bhavana and all around the campus, the simple yet elegant houses where Gurudev lived, all of it was simply out of this world. It was an exhilarating experience for me. I can recall very sketchy details of the trip. If I were to make that trip today, I would have written a series of blog posts on it, and it would have stayed fresh in my memory years later! All I remember is that Vasant Kaka took very good care of me. I owe my first trip to Shantiniketan entirely to him, and will forever be grateful to him for that. It was a brief visit focused on Shantiniketan, and so we didn't really have time for most of the usual places of interest in Kolkata.

A small tidbit of memory from the trip: Vasant Kaka was friends with Surendra Pratap Singh and M J Akbar, the stars of Ananda Bazar Patrika's Ravivar and Sunday respectively. I had tagged along with him to a party at Akbar's home, where among other people SP Singh was also present. Years later, he would sit in an editor's cabin across the hall from my desk in the office of the NavBharat Times, New Delhi! 

Welcome Home Sunil!

My cousin Sunil. Last month he returned home to Burhanpur on retiring from a long and successful stint in Kuwait as Specialist Asset Integrity at an oil refinery. Life has come a full circle for him. As pictures of his homecoming appeared on the family WhatsApp group, my mind went back to the time when Sunil had left home as a 16-year-old lad to get admitted to a premier engineering institute in Indore. He was staying close to our house in Indore, and would often drop by. He made several friends at the institute quickly. He would share updates about his life at the institute with us. He became a member of Maharashtra Engineers, a students' wing of Marathi-speaking people at the institute. We used to get invited to social and cultural events organised by them. Those evenings were very enjoyable, with music, dance, and theatre performed by enthusiastic students.

Time flew, and Sunil passed his engineering with flying colours. He spent about a year with private companies in Mumbai, and then got a good job at the Indian Oil Corporation (IOC). He moved to their refinery in Haldia, roughly 124 kilometres from Kolkata. He adapted to the lifestyle of that new place, and started settling into his profession. He met his life partner Jolly, an accomplished gynaecologist and obstetrician, also working at the IOC in Haldia. They settled into their family life with the arrival of their baby boy, at the same time both contributing wholeheartedly to their careers at the refinery.

Sunil has always been very energetic, adventurous, active, and hardworking. As life presented him with an opportunity to move to Kuwait, he accepted it heartily. Supported by Jolly, they made Kuwait their home. Both of them had challenging careers, and they gave their best to their work. They made many long-lasting friendships there, and took part in social, cultural, and religious activities of Maharashtrian as well as Bengali communities enthusiastically. Of course, Marathi and Bangla are Sunil and Jolly's respective mother tongues, but with exposure to different communities, and a cosmopolitan lifestyle, they are world citizens really!

Photos courtesy Sunil

An avid traveller, Sunil along with Jolly has travelled far and wide to interesting destinations across the globe. He is also a keen golfer, having spent many enjoyable hours at the sprawling greens and desert golf courses in Kuwait. He has a good knowledge of rituals, and he made proper use of his knowledge by officiating at pujas and religious events regularly. He is a people's person, always bubbling with energy. He likes to remain in touch and maintain contact with his friends, relatives and acquaintances, sometimes going out of his way to make efforts to meet someone.

He is very down to earth, and adapts to any condition quickly without any complaints. I remember, once he and Jolly visited us in Bangalore for a couple of days. We had moved to Bangalore just a few days before their visit, and had not even unpacked all our stuff. The apartment was strewn with boxes, and was far from being ready to welcome anyone. They are close family, and there is no formality with them. But still I felt bad that I could not make things more comfortable for them. But both of them made me completely at ease with their natural, easygoing and simple demeanour, not only taking things as they were, but also finding enjoyment in them!

Similarly, they played great hosts when I made trips to their homes in Haldia, Kuwait, and Kolkata. When you are with them, time passes by with chatter and laughter. I wish the same laughter fills their lives as they make India their base now. Wishing both of them many more years of adventure, fun, travel, and good times with family and friends!

What A Year!

Two more days, and year 2020 will be over. What a year this has been! Everyone of us has a long list of things they missed out on. Since the outbreak of the pandemic, our lives have changed. No going out, home is the refuge. No socialising, no guests. It has been a long period of hibernation. Things like going for a walk, going shopping, meeting friends, attending cultural events, travelling, and eating out have been long forgotten. One always took these things for granted, but they have become luxuries now. Following the protocol to fight the virus is the top priority. 

For many, this year brought material loss like losing jobs or losing means of earning a livelihood. For others, it has meant losing near and dear ones to the pandemic. For almost everyone, it has been unsettling; bringing a sense of insecurity, uncertainty, and fear. Personal interactions, that were an integral part of our existence, reduced, making way for social distancing. Family gatherings, getting together to celebrate or grieve over a certain event, meetings of any kind--social, cultural, religious, academic, business--have had to be curtailed.

Looking at the other side, over the last several months, we have realised some things; like the goodness of home-cooked meals, the joy of spending time at home with family, and the importance of people around us who help us with domestic chores, who supply items of daily needs to our homes, and who keep our neighbourhoods clean. We have seen the sacrifices made and risks taken by all those who attended to their call of duty even when the pandemic was raging. A big salute to all of them!

The powerful virus that has had such a wide-ranging impact on all of us, is taking its own time to relent. But when it does, let us not forget the lessons it has taught us. Of valuing the fresh air and the sunshine, the smile on a loved one's face, the laughter of family and friends filling our homes, sharing our joys and sorrows with loved ones, pats on the back, holding hands, and hugs. Let the New Year be the beginning of the end of these difficult times!

Mee Raqsam: I Dream, I Dare, I Dance!

 "Mee Raqsam" (Persian for 'I dance') is a delightful little production--95 minutes, short for a Hindi feature film--even though it handles a sensitive subject of freeing art from religion, gender, class, and other interferences. The art form it chooses to focus on happens to be Bharatanatyam and the setting happens to be Mijwan, a tiny hamlet in Uttar Pradesh's Azamgarh district. Presented by Shabana Azmi, and directed by her cinematographer brother Baba Azmi, the film is a tribute to their father, noted poet and lyricist Kaifi Azmi, who was born in Mijwan 101 years ago. 

The story showcases the tender relationship between a modest tailor Salim, and his 15-year-old daughter Maryam who dreams of pursuing Bharatanatyam. The father goes out of his way to fulfil his daughter's dream, sensing that this was one of the ways for the young woman to cope with the loss of her mother. Hadn't the mother and daughter shared some beautiful moments dancing together on the rooftop of their humble home?

The duo has to fight their own family first and then others, when the girl starts attending a Bharatanatyam school. Why? Because a Muslim girl taking lessons in a classical dance form that is steeped in devotion to Hindu deities is unthinkable, and simply not done.

Maryam's affinity to dance spells trouble for her father, but his support for her is total and unflinching, even at the cost of facing criticism from family, being ostracized from the community, and losing his customers. Salim's predicament pains Maryam. But what keep the film upbeat are the positive vibes between the two, their bond shining through all the ensuing ups and downs. 

Shot on location in Mijwan, the film is paced gently. Danish Husain as Salim and Aditi Subedi as Maryam deliver sparkling performances. What makes Aditi's feat remarkable is that she was brought up in Mijwan and did not know any Bharatanatyam before being a part of this film. Her effort is whole-hearted and sincere. Naseeruddin Shah as the influential community elder is superb as usual, delivering menacing lines with a calculated coolness. Maryam's aunt, grandmother (wonderful Farrukh Jafar in a smallish role), dance teacher, the patron of her dance school, village elders and youngsters all fit the bill nicely. 

All in all, the film is a lovely package, with emotion, drama, music and dance thrown in. Heartening to see such stories that entertain, and deliver a good message too!

Find more about the making of this film here, where Chennai-based journalist Akhila Krishnamurthy is in conversation with Shabana Azmi, Aditi Subedi and Deepali Salil who trained Aditi in Bharatanatyam.

Mee Raqsam is streaming on Zee5.

Cycle: A Delicate Balance!

A strikingly handsome yellow bicycle, a beautiful village set amidst coconut groves by the seaside in Konkan, and a handful of simple people oozing with goodness...these are the main ingredients of "Cycle" (2018), a Marathi film I watched on the telly recently.

Set in 1958, it starts off as a light entertainer, centred around the family of a modest astrologer Keshav--a kind-hearted man who is liked by everyone in and around his village. He is the proud owner of a stylish bicycle that he has inherited from his grandfather, who in turn had received it as a gift from a British officer. Keshav, an otherwise balanced man who is happy and content in his humble surroundings, has just one angularity: he is so possessive of his bicycle that he would not part with it for anything.

We are treated to magnificent shots of idyllic rural life in scenic Konkan all through the film, thanks to Amalendu Chaudhary's superb cinematography. The other dominant feature is the innocence that pervades the film through events, characters and visuals, making it a relatable period drama. In fact, if you don't relate to the innocence, and look at the morals, values and interpersonal relationships using today's yardsticks, you might end up raising questions here and there and losing out on relishing the sweetness of the film. Instead, go along with the spirit of "Cycle" and enjoy the ride!

When Keshav's beloved cycle gets stolen, he is devastated beyond belief. He sets off on a search for his prized possession, and finds himself on a path towards more profound discovery. Similarly, the two thieves who steal the bicycle, find new doors of realization opening for them. All this is shown through lively little incidents involving village folk and lead characters, and not in a drab, preachy way. This is what makes the film remarkable.

Life in the late fifties has been showcased tenderly, sprinkled with touches of gentle humour. It is heartwarming to see people share and give from what little they have. Their small joys and uncomplicated lives make us yearn for the same.

Hrishikesh Joshi as Keshav, and Priyadarshan Jadhav and Bhalchandra Kadam as the two thieves fit like a glove in their roles. Their characters undergo a change in their attitude towards life, and all the three actors have handled it very well. Deepti Lele as Keshav's wife, Maithili Patwardhan as their daughter, and rest of the supporting cast are all very good. Aditi Moghe and Prakash Kunte as the writer-director make a superb team.

It is indeed refreshing to see such films being made in Marathi. They show great promise in all the departments, cover diverse content, entertain and deliver a good message, all at the same time!

Gulabo Sitabo: A Quirky Combo!

Gulabo Sitabo are two puppets well-known in the folklore of Uttar Pradesh, sometimes they portray a pair of warring sisters-in-law, at other times they could be the mistress and wife of someone. But in any case, they are constantly bickering with each other about this or that. Early on in the film, we get a short demonstration of the duo in action, being handled by a puppeteer on the roadside in Lucknow.

Ambles in Mirza Chunnan Nawab. a gawky old man in a filthy kurta and short pajama, his tall frame bent in a hunch, eyes hidden behind thick glasses, bulbous nose sticking out, head covered with a scarf, and sporting a flowing white beard. Mirza picks up the puppeteer's kitty from the mat spread out in front of him, and limps away nonchalantly to his haveli, a crumbling old mansion way past its days of glory.

The grand old mansion "Fatima Mahal" has been inherited by Begum Fatima, a woman in her nineties who happens to be the wife of Mirza, 17 years her junior. She lives in her own world, rarely stepping out of her quarters. Pampered by her attendant, she enjoys relative luxury upstairs, compared to Mirza who is relegated to a room somewhere downstairs. This odd couple seems to be occupying the haveli from time immemorial. They are childless, but they have families of several tenants for company, who too appear to be living there forever, paying pittance to the landlady for rent.

The tenants are a disgruntled lot, struggling to survive in the abysmal conditions in the worn haveli, their woes exacerbated by the petty actions of Mirza, who keeps discovering new ways of making life difficult for them. The most vocal among them is Baankey Rastogi, a flour mill owner who lives in a part of the haveli with his mother and three sisters.

This is the delicious set-up around which Juhi Chaturvedi weaves her story, and Shoojit Sircar calls the shots as the director. The haveli, though dilapidated, has many lusting after it including Mirza, Baankey, a government officer from the department of archaeology, and a builder. Their greed makes them play a game of trying to outwit one another in order to acquire the property. The begum, seemingly oblivious to all this, relaxes in her chamber, sleeping peacefully under a mosquito net or getting henna applied to her hair.

The film has an old-world charm. The haveli, which is the piece de resistance of the story, has been captured very lovingly on camera. Its facade and interiors look awesome even in their run down condition. The outdoor shots bring alive streets, markets, arched gates, skyline, spires and domes of Lucknow, lending it a lovely local touch.

Amitabh Bachchan looks and acts a bit too old for his 78-year-old character, but he has maintained his bearing, complete with the prosthetics and the limp very well. He has had to tone down his famous baritone to a mutter. Some might feel that he has been reduced to a caricature, but full credit to him for carrying that look with conviction.

Ayushmann Khurrana as the school dropout looks every bit the flour mill owner that he is supposed to portray, his clothes dusted with flour. His social awkwardness is a result of his underprivileged background, in addition he has to deal with a well-to-do girlfriend, and a sister who is smarter than him. He is always at the receiving end of Mirza's petty acts, struggling to hold his own. The two indulge in a cat-and-mouse game that doesn't exactly set off fireworks, but generates some amusement. He speaks with a slight lisp, perfecting the lingo of the region he is supposed to be from. With this role, he has added one more character to his repertoire.

Vijay Raaz as the "arcology" officer, Brijendra Kala as the lawyer, and Srishti Shrivastava as the spunky go-getter Guddo are all spot-on in their performances. In fact, this film is more about sparkling performances than anything else. They are what carry the film through its slow pace at times. And they are what lend gentle comic touches to it. The dialogues are effervescent, and speak the language of "Nakhlau".

Lastly, it is Farrukh Jafar who is wholesome, funny and spirited in spite of being in her mid-eighties. She plays a woman in her mid-nineties and has the last laugh!

"Gulabo Sitabo" was released on Amazon Prime Video on June 12, 2020.