D2's Annaprashan

I was thinking of writing out a post but I couldn't put it any better than has already been done by his Jharnadida(?). Here is her narration:


There is this family, full of love and laughter,

Filled with all that a family does desire.

A daughter and a son, joined by a princess bride

From the Orient – happy together, or away.

Then one day the daughter brought a doll home;

With dark hair and bright eyes – like two bumble-bees.

The family poured their love on him in endless abandon.

Kalapi, the courageous daughter, and her son,

Once more brought all the best in life to them all.



Durgadas has to grow; so he was given rice,

Colourful curries and sweets, all made for him

With as much love as a heart can hold.

As auntie placed him on her lap, his uncle fed him.

And then he chose to touch earth –

To respect our mother, our blue planet.

It was time for a nap at last, with all the chores behind.

• From Jharna mashi to Kalapi and Durgadas

October 12, 2008

There is also the video, rather nicely put together by Randy Roy.

Maya and Cassia

Pictures from last weekend in London of the girls!

Mittili at Work

The red car was a gift from his paternal grandparents while the tools were a gift from his parents for his birthday this year. Thankfully he did not feel the need to work on the red bicycle that his Dadda and Diddi (my parents) gifted him.

Bheblu Turns Two

The first party was rather a small affair, what with Vicky's mother's operation and Mamadadu's passing. I promised myself then that his next birthday, when he would be older and better able to enjoy himself on his own terms, would have a party thrown only for him and his friends. Where the children would come first.

So this year I planned a menu for children 2 yrs downwards. It comprised homemade cake, juice, dot appalams, jam biscuits and cheese straws from Cal Club and corn popped at home with little oil and salt. Everything small and suitable for toddlers to play around with. I brought out all the toys and didn't arrange the balloons on the walls -- they lay all over the floor free to be played with. A puzzle corner was created with a small table and three toddler chairs, where the quieter kids could do their own thing. And I wore clothes I could run around in -- Dipali's kurta (my birthday present from her) with a churidar and my hair tied in a French braid.

Our guests were pretty punctual, despite the light rain, and made themselves more or less at home. There was some slight anxiety on the part of the host himself, who decided to solve matters by carefully removing his most favoured toys from the hands of the invading hordes, but it was far less stressful than I'd hoped for. The guests were unbelievably well-behaved, nobody really hit each other or made each other cry (except for Tai Shan and Rahul, late in the evening when both were tired and cranky and even that was quickly sorted out) and the mothers seemed to hit it off really well. In the middle of all this was Dipali, handing out refreshments, adding her bit to the conversation, generally being there. She even piped the lettering on the cake when a tired me was chickening out and planning to write it on the cake board with a sketch pen instead!

Although not all our guests came, almost all of them did, including two fathers I hadn't expected, and I'm glad they came, at that. Because I did enjoy myself that evening, and I think Vicky and Rahul did too. To me that's the sign of a successful party -- one where the hosts had fun too.


Lessons learned:

1. Provide more food for adults. This is not much of a lesson because I did have adult food (patties and payesh and stuff) for the evening guests and I deliberately stuck to toddler food this year, but yes, having got this one party out of my system, all parties henceforth will be planned for both children and the adult guests.

2. Decor is really not important. :) Who's looking?

3. Toddlers can be nice guests so I'm never running them down again, the sweethearts.

4. Add ayahs when counting heads! Add every ayah who you know is employed by a guest. If they don't turn up, more food for the rest, but better than the other way around!

5. Dottie is not just a baking goddess but also an abso sweetheart when your fondant casts up its accounts in the middle of the night. Thanks, Dot, more than you know!

6. Nobody really cares what Vicky wears. Except, of course, his mother.

7. One should always make even more cake than planned.

8. Somebody really should be designated photographer. I had no idea where my phone was, so I took no photos myself and as a result, there are none. Gayatri took some though, and I'm waiting for those to be sent over. I promise to put them up once I get them.

9. Shopping for kiddy parties is great fun! I wish the next birthday weren't a whole year away. I've already got the theme planned and everything. This year was Balloons. I made the cake in the shape of two balloons (baked in a boat-shaped casserole) and had one cut for the kids and one for the grandparents who came later in the evening.

Roll Call

Ok, everybody seems to be all over the place.

Baba (Babua) is off to Tokyo I understand, where he is to meet Chhotokaku (Khokon), Arkakaku and Kasumi Oba-san (khurima). He returns to India via Singapore, so hopefully some chocolates will attach themselves to his luggage en route. Later he is to go to Vienna.

Barapishi (Khuku) is travelling around with Mejopishi (Keka); M'pishi has gone to visit the US and is looking very smart in her western attire. I know they've been to Disneyland but I've lost track of the rest of it. Chhotopishi (Kanchi) is there as well, of course, and I'm very impressed by the resilience of the denizens of Atlanta, GA. All three Roy sisters, just think of it.

It will surprise nobody to hear that Anindyakaku was in the US too. A month before M'pishi, of course. This is one couple that refuses to stay together. Such jet-setting...

Kaku is having Moore Avenue painted. Didi (Guria) is back in town, working in a legal firm off Prince Anwar Shah Road. Munia is probably finishing with a set of exams.

Ma (Swati) is coming to Calcutta in a few hours. She's here for a week and then Vicky (Soubhik) and Rahul (Bheblu) visit them at Madras for Jamaishashti. I stay back in Cal. Not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but I'll find out soon enough.

Tua is in B'lore, sending me pretty earrings. (Thanks, Tua!)

Mithi and Medha have brought their mother to Calcutta for a holiday. Pishithamma was with them in Gurgaon and came along as well.

Dada (Lattu) is in Cal, helping to clean/clear out Moore Avenue. (Thanks, Dada). Vicky pulled his [share of the] weight as well, so thanks V.

Jimma is staying by herself in Garfa and seems to be doing a good job of cadging meals off folks. I'm pretty proud of her.

This is all the news I have and I'm aware it's pretty sketchy. So please tell me what you and yours are up to. Chhotima? Linnetpishi? Arkakaku? Chhordi? Indi? Anybody?

Voices

An anecdote of Madhupur from Baba/Babua[da].

There are any number of people who will listen to just a little piece of a song and tell you who is singing. They can do it with ease, especially with the more well-known singers.

There are also those who can recognize voices merely in speech or over the telephone with perfect accuracy.

While happening to be married to somebody of the first type, myself I have never been able to make out different voices with any appreciable degree of certainty. I like Hindi film songs, the ones that were hits forty years ago, and usually express my admiration of singer A while listening to somebody widely and usually correctly believed to be singer B.

But once this same failing, in somebody else, had turned out to be a good thing for me, and I will now tell you all about it.

First a general observation about the importance, in the old days, of the ability to identify the owners of voices emanating from all types of different beings. In those days, in our rural surroundings, women and domestic animals, often in the reverse order of importance, used to be identified mainly through their voices. I will leave the other, obvious cases and concentrate on explaining this matter of women.

There used to be exactly two kinds of ladies in general in those days. The first kind was short, stout and completely covered in a "ghunghat" or sari veil. The other kind consisted of ladies who were taller, similarly stout and identically covered in similar ghunghats. Any third variety was so rare that they really did not exist.

The visible mehendi marks and "churi" bangles rarely exhibited any discernible variations, and accordingly there was little left by way of individual identification. Passport style, voices thus were important "marks of identification".

Mewa Lal was the local orchard "ijaradar" or contractor. As befitted his position, he had multiple large families who were usually at peace amongst themselves. All his wives were nice aunties of ours who would never hesitate to pass on the best off the orchards somewhat in defiance of the patriarch. Having duly delegated most of the day to day management to his able sons who ranged in age from one to forty-five, Mewa Lal restricted his precious attention to preventing socially powerful people from nationalizing the better fruits from his trees. But an old man of nearly seventy could always have some failings, physical, sentimental etc., and basically intelligent marauders faced little problem in overcoming his security systems.

The confusion that generally prevailed over the identity of the various ladies in that family's harem(s) is very difficult to appreciate today. In summer, with mangoes, litchis and jackfruit ripening all around, the men would often stay away at nights over the vast expanses of the orchards. Sometimes they would return in the daytime to replenish supplies. Thus for long periods they would be away from the women and more importantly, from the women's voices. So it was but natural for confusion to arise.

And so again it was that a mildly inebriated and intoxicated Samwa (obviously the second son of Mewa Lal - why? - just logic this one out!) got into an argument with two individuals he confidently felt were his younger sister and his wife. Soon the three were on the ground and the dust was flying, for Samwa was not one to let mere women talk back to him. The two women, however, successfully thrashed him and were continuously cheered by some of us youngsters who did not count Samwa amongst their friends.

Just as a diversion we will explain the quiz posed about Samwa being obviously Mewa Lal's second son. All first sons were expected in our parts to be definitely followed by a second son, and woe betide any poor woman who dared beget otherwise. All first sons were naturally named after Lord Rama. This was the reason why Shyam (Samwa) and Lakshmana (Lachchhu) were automatically the names of gentlemen's second sons without exception. Thirty years later in Calcutta, when a barber from Bihar came and offered his services to my father and me for morning shaves, introducing himself as Shyamlal, I casually asked him how his elder brother was and shocked him into believing that I had actually visited his village and met the fellow who had never dared leave their district.

Well, to return to our main tale, Samwa had actually attacked two of his stepmothers, one of whom was younger than him. It was but a simple matter for us to prevent our honest selves from rushing across to his father and spilling the beans, the only requirement for which was just a little plain and simple co-operation from that devil Samwa for the rest of the mango season. This he tamely agreed to accord.

I for one still remember that one summer of "langra" mangoes and giant jackfruit cloves.

That's MY Father

Click on second photo to see enlarged version and read Baba's interview.

Durga Das Updates

Here some photographs of the Latest Addition, taken just before his visit to the wellness centre for his 6-7 week check-up.

Reading, Writing And -- Oh, Never Mind!

I have a confession to make at the start of this post. While I've never really talked about it, I've been known to fret inside me that The Bhablet has never shown any 'proper' interest in his fairly big library of plastic and cloth books. Obviously, after the earlier, harrowing incident I stopped letting him near real, paper books.

When he was ill and listless last week, I decided to strike while the, er, forehead was hot. He was too feverish to sleep and too whiny to play so I put him in his cot, put the side down, pulled him and the cot up to the bed and lay next to him showing him pictures in the book that he was gifted by my favourite second-hand bookseller. And get this, he was interested. I nearly jumped out of my skin with the excitement. I nervously offered him a Dr. Seuss (How the Grinch Stole Christmas) and he liked that too. He read it upside down quite often but pointed out all the bibbis and the kukkus and the daddas, not to mention the buteis and the babababas. We discussed, fairly civilly by our standards, how kukkus say "bow-bow". All in all, we were fairly merry for two people down with the virus.

The next day we were both better and I was taking a quick gander at the blogworld after V left for work. I figured if The Bhablet would co-operate, I could have half an hour before getting down to the chores. But he wasn't interested in his toys and wanted me to play with him. Bolstered by the previous day's success, I found him some paper, dug out an ancient crayon from Dada's schooldays, if I'm right, and showed him how to make marks on the paper. Was feeling pretty pleased with myself. Had got as far as planning out the consequent blog post when he came to me with guilt writ large all over his face and a mouth smeared with suspicious looking purple flecks. He hadn't liked the taste of it at all and so spat out the rest of the crayon.

It was right then that I decided to hand over his education to those who are paid to endure such trauma.

P.S.
The interest in books continues but he won't have them read to him and he'll certainly turn his own pages, thank you very much.

Recipe - Fried Sketch Pens

From Chhotoamma in Canada

Chhotoamma mailed a few days ago:

"Here are a few photos of Durga Das. A few were taken when he and his mother were still in the hospital - a day after he was born on 20 February 2008 The rest were taken when he came home at the age of four days, escorted by two of his mother's friends.

Durga Das Roy was welcomed home by his Dadu Hiten Roy with a guinea that once belonged to Dr. Durga Das Sen, who was Robin's grandfather (father's father) and Hiten's Sejdadu (mother's Kaka (uncle)). Dr. Sen received this guinea (Edward VII, 1906) as part of his medical fee when he was in Mauratius. Sejdidima (Dr. Sen's wife) welcomed Chitra to her home with this guinea."

The photos are in a Flickr account, and I couldn't find a way to blog them. They can be seen by clicking on the link above. I hope they will be followed by more in time.

Durga Das is currently being called D2 by Chhordadu. I am finding it hard to believe that a family which was only too happy to egg Vicky on in calling his son "Bhaebla" has not yet come up with any other pet names for its newest member.

I'm a little sad I can't pass on The Bhablet's stuff. I know D2 will have everything he can possibly need, but I'd have liked him to have some family hand-me-downs (or do I mean hand-me-ups?) from here. We all grew up in them and they lead to some lively memories!

B'mesho and B'mashi's Anniversary

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Welcome!

Poupéepishi (Kalapi) gave birth to a baby boy by Caesarean section on 20 February 2008 at 3.53 a.m.

He has been named Durga Das Roy. Any suggestions for daaknaam?

He weighs 6.5 pounds. According to his proud grandmother, he has "very good facial features with black eyes, and has a lot of black hair." Chhotoamma, when you all have a little time on your hands, do remember we are all waiting for his photos.

In the meantime, welcome, little cousin. From your extended family all across the world.

Letter from Dr. A. S. Bose to Mr. A. Duttagupta

Dear Anjan-da,

I am sorry that you were disturbed during a meeting on (?) Friday last.

It was Bheblu! I am now in Chennai (with Bheblu and Phuli).

I was working on my laptop when Keka called me. I gave Bheblu the phone to talk to her. He promptly disappeared from the room with the phone. Unfortunately, I had not locked the key pad. And as your name starts with an "A", you were one of the unfortunate victims (apart from me - I'll have to take care of these international calls made from a roaming network!) of his nimble fingers.

Regards,
Anindya

Bheblu walking

Poupeemashi's Shaadh

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PS: Phulididi does not have access to the Internet for a while as she has moved to her new house. So, if any of you want anything to be put up on the blog, please send it to Jimmadidi.

Aged Fifteen Months

After an oil massage on our verandah. He's wrapped up in a kantha that I think was once Dada's (Lattu's).

Maya and Cassia in Dec 2007

Am I the only one who thinks they have especially beautiful eyes?

Himachal Ranges

Kufri Zoo 2

Kufri Zoo 1

"Imma" and Mejopishedadu's (Anindya) visit to Kufri zoo near Shimla.