Monday, August 11, 2014

#Threads of #love

This #Rakhi was different. My brother wasn’t here. Neither was my sis. Nothing new there. They've been away in Canada for years. But I never missed them so much before. I think it was the endless traffic jam--a consistent feature on every Rakhi-- with masses of people literally hanging onto their wits and last threads of energy atop precariously balanced bikes or within stuffed, rickety buses.

Once upon a time, all five of us--me, Shveta, Babbu, mummy and papa--would settle into our Maruti 800 every year and head for west Delhi. Majority of my cousin brothers lived there then. Of course, I and Babbu would bully Shveta to sit in the centre as always, while we occupied the window seat. And we would set out towards that far, far, away land. I remember the jokes, the little tiffs and the inane conversations en route.

 I remember especially my brother’s moniker for that side of the town. Ulti Nagar. No offence meant to anyone. But we laughed our guts out on that one. We were parked next to a DTC bus wherein a dressed-up, young woman who, in her love for the festival, must have travelled afar to meet her brother. The momentum of and the duration on the bus did not sit too well with her. And all her agony came hurtling down Babbu’s window. Thank God, the window was shut but it was disgusting nevertheless. It was Babbu’s shocked expression that sent us into a crazy fit of laughter. The moniker that shortly followed upped the hilarity of the situation by significant notches.

So yesterday when I was parked next to a bus with a girl who looked decidedly yellow and disturbed, I recalled the Rakhi days with my family. Tears came unbidden. I missed the torturous travel on Rakhi with my family. And I must mention that I and Babbu don’t exactly see eye-to-eye. But I missed him like hell. Now we all are just dispersed across the globe. So I spend my Rakhi with my husband’s family. It never bothered me before, but I guess as times flies by, you miss the beauty of the simple things you took for granted and probably hated doing before.

But #hope is a wonderful thing. And I hope that one day Babbu and Shveta will be here and all five of us would take a trip down the #memory lane of Ulti Nagar.   

1 comment:

Bhaskar said...

:) Madam Ex-editor ... nice ...