Granny's Grandeur

Looked through the prism of rosy nostalgia, a rewind of more than three decades in hindsight -

 

Those were our school-going days. We were all eagerly looking forward to our summer vacation to proceed to our native. All our cousins and their families bonded at the palatial mansion at our Granny's during this period.

 

My granny was charming in her looks, there were liberal layers of grey tresses peeping out on her head. She was a confident lady apart from being energetic.

She groomed us to be disciplined for the brief stay, we had with her. She stressed on the hobby of gardening and encouraged us to plant many saplings. As children, we valued her words and showed dedication in growing them.

By the time, we visited her the subsequent year, the saplings were full-grown flowering plants and fruit yielding trees. We were amazed at the greenery that was nurtured by our very own hands. It was a refreshing visual treat!

 

My self and my cousins were very fond of mehendi. Our granny directed us to a garden nearby, which was entirely fenced by mehendi trees. She asked us to pluck bag loads of these leaves, given the number of cousins.

We pounced on the fencing and plucked them to our heart's content.

We handed it to granny, who ground it to fine paste. And kept it in a large bowl to be used in the night.

There were no mobile phones in those days. We kept ourselves occupied with many indoor and outdoor games. This resulted in tremendous physical exertion and we could maintain a good physique. Granny would hand- feed us delicious meals after seating us in round circles in the huge corridor. It was a family ritual that boosted our affinity.

Evenings meant sprinting to the parks close by. We competed with each other to reach the destination. This was followed as a routine.

 

Back home, the same corridor was the venue for dinner, where we sat down and partook of the food that was served in our hands with love. We were done with it by 7:30 p.m.

 

It was TV time. Chitrahaar often made for an engrossing watch in the national programme.

  As kids, we used to eagerly wait for the night to fall. Our granny would unleash a series of tales to us every night before we hit the sack.. She kept us gripped us with her narratives.

 

 We assembled in the room leading to the corridor.

Granny applied mehendi on both our palms one by one. Her designs were mainly a big round circle in the centre of the palm surrounded by tiny circles around the main one. She also capped our fingers with the paste. The application would soothe the heat of our bodies and give a glossy orange tinge to our hands. (after having retained it for the whole night and washing it off.)

 

She'd once narrated a ghost story that was terribly scary. We listened to it with rapt attention.

 One such story is recapitulated thus-

 

It was pitch dark in the night. It rained cat

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s and dogs. Thunder almost deafened the senses. The power supply was snapped. There were two children sleeping by the window on the cot.

The time clocked 11. Their deep sleep was distracted by the electrifying lightening that penetrated through the windowpane along with explosive thunder.

They were abruptly awakened. The weird ambiance was maddeningly scary.

 As my granny proceeded to narrate the subsequent part, two of my cousins hugged her in a tight embrace and shut their ears. They were extremely nervous and wanted to sleep. Granny understood their predicament and patted them to sleep.

Granny’s narration followed by the emotions associated with it had a lasting impact on its listeners.

Rest of us listened intently by biting our nails.

She resumed -

 

The street dogs barked and wailed. It was considered a bad omen to listen to dogs cries.

Owls that were nestled on the branches near the windows hooted full throat.

Hearts of both the young kids being fragile grappled with fear and they literally froze, owing to such disastrous sounds filling their room. They clutched each other closely. In this heavy rain that lashed, there was a sudden movement felt in the window.

Its shadow appeared like that of a hungry ghost. Within no time it started scratching the windowpane vigorously as if desperate to enter and devour the two boys. More its attempt to gain entry more the amplification of hizzing sounds.

 

They recollected traumatic incidents where the souls of dissatisfied persons meandered aimlessly in pursuit of human scent and tore them to pieces. They wore the remains as garland and resumed their activities in the pitch dark at midnight.

 

The kids seemed exhausted as their patience was punctured. What ensued was like a seamless torment.

They sped as fast as they could to the portico where the rest of the families were busy chattering at this earthly hour because the power wasn't restored yet.

 

Both of them calmed themselves down and shared the ordeals they'd confronted so far.

One of the eldest members of the family embraced both the kids and wiped away their bothersome dust of ghost.. Said he, "It's only your wild imagination that'd driven you to tremble".

Do recite God's name and pray, he'll definitely extend his wealth of Mercy. You can have a peaceful sleep. They retired to sleep.

 

 Intrigued by the curiosity, we questioned our granny, if ghosts did really exist?

My granny chuckled and said, " No". " It was only the branches of a plantain tree that swayed aggressively due to the breeze. Its silhouette cast a shadow of a ghost in the dark". "And as for the scratching sounds, it was a cat trying to gain entry"!

 

She asked us to treat a story as a mere story and not spill it to reality!

This particular tale sizzled in our ears in such a manner that the chimes of fleeting times also failed to erase it!