The Seed

After almost 15 years of my conscious age, I met my grandma. I could sense the belongingness for this place as soon as I came out from the back gate of this old-school Bikaner railway station. To my surprise I still remember the smallest of the lanes. As I reached the gates of this small locality of Vyas colony, where the only landmark is a bank, I saw the white castle that my grandpa build after serving and eventually retiring from a white collar job.

He is no more. Of the memories I have of him, the best one would be teaching me how to figure out time by looking at the two hands of the clock. Digital ones were rarely available in those days. I know every nook & corner of this house. The homemade mango ice-cream in the freezer. Calcium Sandoz chocolate flavoured tablets in a puppy shaped bottle. The small garden outside. The back alley. The grand staircase. One of the steps of which I guess is broken (Yes, it was still broken). She didn't recognise me at first.

The onus falls on her blurred vision. (She did after a while!) But that didn't stop her from making my holiday favourite 'Kadai wale aalo' (Pan fried potatoes). My grandma has hearing issues as well which most of the 40's kid have these days. The problem is that she thinks other people have it to. Haha. I was told many of my childhood stories obviously and I wasn't able to recollect almost 8/10 of them obviously. One of which, I remembered was the over-emotional, over-enthusiastic noise polluted Bollywood style farewell greetings I was given by the local peers I made friends with, every-time I left this place. The kids kept on changing each summer and I kept on coming each summer.

Before leaving we all had a ritual. The mango seeds (gutli), I used all my left ones and planted them near the porch. Even though I had just entered my double digits, I made everyone (even teens around) believe that it will reap more mangoes in next summer. Do you think it did? My estimation weren’t correct of course but here, I am 15 years after. I do not see the tree, but I am happy that despite her deteriorating senses my grandma still remembers the story, like every old neighbour around. The mango seed, the seed of Belief!