“Rocky, Rocky, Rock,” a bunch of boys cried out. They were not cheering Sylvester Stallone. Nor were they cheering Sanjay Dutt in his debut movie Rocky where he rode a motorbike with panache. Instead, what followed after the cries was that a 50 something man with a balding pate, rode into sight on his scooty. The boys in his neighbourhood which included yours truly were giving him three cheers as he rode about with the legitimate purpose of getting on with his life.
Now Brahmbhatt aka Rocky was obviously irritated by these cries but ,since he found himself being surrounded by a bunch of boys whose numerical strength was strong enough to fill a cricket team, he chose the path of discretion over valour. Of course he would let out the occasional cry of rage which used to only amuse us boys further.
On one matter though Brahmbhatt had the upper hand. The cricket ball would often sail into his house which was on the ground floor, when some audacious batsman decided to play his shot. If the Englishman believes his home to be his castle, Brahmbhatt actually regarded his as a fort. Naturally, he had his say while we boys stood around half amused. After a few minutes the ball would be tossed back to us and then it was business as usual. On one such occasion when the ball sailed into his house, we were standing around as usual while Rocky went about having his say. My brother Balaji too decided to express his opinion with a hearty laugh. Rocky turned around wildly and asked my brother in Hindi “ Thoo kya hasta hai re Madrasi Bhooth” (Why are you laughing you South Indian Ghost). That of course brought the house down. Apart from that it raised the important question, Is there a community\caste system in the spirit world? I haven’t been figure out the answer to that one nearly a quarter century later and would appreciate someone throwing light on the issue.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A Tale of Three Children
Recently over the weekend, I had the pleasure of taking three kids out to Big Mac.– My four plus son Sanjiv, and two eleven year old’s –my brother’s daughter Diksha and my cousin sister’s son Manav. As I saw the three of them tuck contentedly into French fries and McVeggie, I was reminded of the birth of all three children.
The moment the phone rang on December 11, 1998 we my parents and I knew instinctively that my sister in law had been hospitalized. We quickly rushed to the hospital in Mahim where all the children in my sister in law’s family had been born. It was a long wait made longer by our anxiety. Finally, a nurse came out carrying what I can only describe as a pink bundle. It was the most delightful shade of pink that I had ever seen in my life, the memory of which was made sweeter by the fact that, I was the first person to see the child.
I saw Manav during a visit to Chennai, about two months after he was born. He was such a small baby at that time, I exclaimed that he was in fact Adhi Manav. I still tease him about the incident about which obviously he has no recollection.
Finally, Sanjiv. My wife had been in the labour room for a while when the doctor, came out of carrying my son. I was clearly frightened when I realized that she was going to drop the child in my lap. I had till then followed a prudent policy of lifting only children after they had crossed a year. I was trying to explain this to the doctor when she said quietly but firmly—“it is your child and you have to take
responsibility for him”, dropped him into my lap and my life. Needless to say that has been the story of my life since then.
The moment the phone rang on December 11, 1998 we my parents and I knew instinctively that my sister in law had been hospitalized. We quickly rushed to the hospital in Mahim where all the children in my sister in law’s family had been born. It was a long wait made longer by our anxiety. Finally, a nurse came out carrying what I can only describe as a pink bundle. It was the most delightful shade of pink that I had ever seen in my life, the memory of which was made sweeter by the fact that, I was the first person to see the child.
I saw Manav during a visit to Chennai, about two months after he was born. He was such a small baby at that time, I exclaimed that he was in fact Adhi Manav. I still tease him about the incident about which obviously he has no recollection.
Finally, Sanjiv. My wife had been in the labour room for a while when the doctor, came out of carrying my son. I was clearly frightened when I realized that she was going to drop the child in my lap. I had till then followed a prudent policy of lifting only children after they had crossed a year. I was trying to explain this to the doctor when she said quietly but firmly—“it is your child and you have to take
responsibility for him”, dropped him into my lap and my life. Needless to say that has been the story of my life since then.
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