A Halloween to remember

Rise dear ones,

For I now have a story to tell my grand kids. And oh! what a story it would be. On a cold winter night, the kiddos on the floor, a few lying down and another few sitting up right (inherited from their Grandpa Mr. Upsi, whom I have never seen lying lazily on a floor) near the fire place, me on a wooden rocking chair that creaks every now and then. A warm cozy place it would be. I might even add in a few tidbits to keep the story sizzling. But for now, for you my three readers, I present the actual facts. Fiction down the drain.

So last night, the night before Halloween, I felt bloated (too much of pooran poli or methu vada, I couldn't' tell) and nothing, nothing but a jog, could ease my bloated self. It has nothing to do with watching too much Julia Roberts/Sandra Bullock/Renee Zellweger flicks, where the heroine runs a mile or two, to clear her heart and mind of life's brutality. They come back, sweating and take a warm shower and the next scene you know, they are as warm spirited as a cup of warm cider on a cold winter night. My wanting to jog had nothing to do with it of course. (yes, we have netflix account and movies come and go, like the milkman of yesteryear's).

At this point, I would like to let the readers know that it has been quite a while since I jogged and quite a very long while since I had had a night jog. Mr. Upsi gnawed at my decision, but by now, he has accepted the eccentricities of his lovely wife. Ha, the sweet travails of couple hood!

The little one was fast asleep by now. I changed to my jogging out fit (which is nothing but track pants, white Tee and sneakers. Not that you are interested in my attire, but a story needs to be wholesome). Opened the front door and a cold gust of wind swept my face. It is October, for Lord's sake and no sane person jogs at 8:30 pm on a cold October night. When I was little, I wanted to prove to the world that I was different. And then I grew up. Didn't know whom in the world I should be proving to and what for. But sometimes the streaks of childhood surfaces like flotsam. And last night, maybe, I thought jogging at night would prove something. Its either that or I need to shed my insanity once in a while to keep my sanity.

So anyways, reminding myself of a determined bull ready to knock the rodeo off, I braved the cold and started warming up. Then slowly gathered pace and momentum. Before I knew it, I was running six miles an hour, along the dark alley ways and down the path. The trees loomed larger than life, the clouds dark and gloomy, evoking a tangible sense of danger. The kind of night where one is sure that the battle between orcs and beasties are in full swing in the sky. Or as if Hogwarts school is in full frenzy (now that Dumbledore is so popular).

Everything around me was eerie and creepily quiet. Not a single soul around. But only evil spirits hanging out, grueling Horcruxes and having a vile ball of a party.Thoughts of ghosts, specially of a desi kind, white saree clad and feet a foot away from the ground and long hair, crossed my mind. I keep my desi roots, you see, even when it comes to deathly hallows.

But I kept the pace. One brave woman, I was.

And right then, when I was about to take the bend, I saw the silhouette of a brooding figure, holding on to a dog. The figure half seated on the lawn that joins the pathway. An illusion, perhaps? But a nanosecond later, I knew this was for real. Right there, I was going to be battered blue and dead. Racing pulse, pounding heart. I let out a loud 'help'. Nothing came out at first, but a faint shortness of breath. And then, on top of my voice, gushing with all force and might, and with a thick mallu accent, I shouted 'yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllppppp'. I never knew that would be the first word one would let out when face to face with death eaters. Not an 'AAAAAAAAAaaaa" or "Ammmmmmmaaaa". But an "yeeeelp"!!

The figure leapt out. It was a she with a dog (didn't stay longer to find the gender of the dog, you story-poopers!) The lady apologized 'oh I saw you coming and didn't want to scare the hell out of you. My dog was a little nervous". Or something to that effect. I couldn't clearly hear her, forI was still running.....running for my life....away from her. The dog was howling, and I muttered a 'sorrryy.....I afraid of dogs'. Liar. As if it was just the dog I was afraid of. I ran home like there was no tomorrow.

Stammered for a second on how to narrate this whole escapade with Mr. Upsi and Grandmom. "You know what happened", panted a slightly shocked me.
"what? chased by a ghost or a dog?", asked Mr. Upsi, eyes still fixed on the football game. Faint sound of Grandma's laugh heard on the background.

Second thoughts on Mr. Upsi having an office affair with a blonde and having me out of the way, through this attack? Did he hike up my insurance premium? (Here, I blame the netflix movie over dose.)

"Ok..this is what happened", and I narrated the works.

A slow evil smile dawned on Mr. Upsi and I said "ayayyay.....happy spooky Halloween. I was kidding. LOL, you believed me, didn't you? Jee. HOHAHA."

Grandma looked skeptical. To believe or not, that was her question.
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Now - Ini, Mini, Miney, Moo (names of my grandkids)-- tell me, did Grandma make up this story?

An overdose

Work, as if
you don't need the money

Love, as if
you've never been hurt

Dance, as if
no one is watching

The sound of music

History has a strange way of repeating itself. Doesn't it?

Take for instance the Upsi household. On most mornings of any given holiday or weekend, the house blares of music. It is in the background when Upsi cooks, fights with Mr. Upsi, plays with her little one and when the family dines.

And then the other day, after putting her little one to sleep, she was preparing the weekend brunch, humming to a long lost tune, when a gust of nostalgic wind found its way through a little crack on the kitchen window sill and brushed her ever so gently. At the drop of a hat, she can wade to distant lands, back to her home, back to where the first rythm of enchating music was taught to her. Back to her place where the hills are alive with the sound of music.

Both on her paternal and maternal side, music was worshipped and sought of as a passion. Most everyone in her family could decently hum a Karnatic keerthanam and discuss the raga it is based on. Well, almost most. Her father lacked the trait to an extent of family disgrace. Put any music on and he would choir with absolute lack of co-ordination. His beats are always misplaced and chords never threaded. Simply put, he was a shame, the black sheep of the family's boasted music lovers. He appreciated music whole heartedly, but you could tell -- it was not his true love.

Now, Upsi's mother, she is a different story all together. Music put her at ease. Hushed her babies, nephews and nieces and now her grand babies and grand nieces with lullabies and, instilled the passion for music in them all. She has a melodious voice, but not enough for the crowd to go wa-wa-wa.

All the kids in the family were taught music. Irrespective of how they sounded. There were no second thoughts.

Geetha akka, daughter of Sharma sir who housed near the Hanuman Kovil, told her grandmom about the music teacher of the locality that they moved to, after Upsi's father got a transfer. Calls were made within seconds after grandom reached home back from her daily temple visit.

It was anyways the month of October, Vidya-aarambham month. Easy enough to choose an auspicuous day to start the first paattu class. In the wee hours of the morning, Upsi and her sister were violently shaken from their sleep and bathed in the freezing cold well water.

Lamp was lit and after kneeling down, they were off to Viswanathan Sir's class.
'Sa...Pa....Sa..., repeat after me', V sir.

They repeated and a second later, Upsi roared with laughter at their horrendous vocal. Noise, not music. She was hurridely hushed by the family elders. The silence that ensued after they reached home and the news of their loss was passed around; it felt like there was a death in the family. To not let the word out that the sisters were such pathetic singers, Viswanthan Sir was kajoled to come home and teach them. Harmonium was brought from Karunakaran's musical shop.

Looking back, I think, the grand elders thought that the prospective grooms' family for the sisters would be looking for a melodious voice in the girls. That they might be asked to sing. Pheww! How wrong!

All that Mr. Upsi asked on their first meet was about some damn project she was working on, which she had no idea herself.

Anyways, V sir came twice a week, and also taught violin to their Mamma. The sisters had to be dragged from their evening game of seven tiles and hide and seek; ushered for a qucik wash and then one of them would get the folded mat from the pooja room, hold it in her armpit and lay it on the floor. Weary from the game and hating the whole world, especially their mom and grandmom, for making them go through an hour of Sa-Pa-Sa, they expressed their wrath through their music. Their mind was tuned to the game outside, that when Chithra yelled after putting all the seven tiles back, they would suppress their happy grins.

"concenrate on the pallavi and anu-pallavi. not on the noise outside", V Sir.

"you both should get up early every morning for the saadakam, practice the raaga, only then will you improve".

Summer holidays were worst. V Sir's schedule was changed and he would come in at noon (sisters nap time) or in the evening right bfore Chithrahaar on DD. Upsi and her sister, tom and jerry on every other matter, united for the musical cause. So if one of them is particulary sleepy and wanted to nap five minutes longer, the other would lie that she is in the bathroom and an unsuspecting V sir would wait.

And oh, how could I forget that particular day when V sir came ater 2 weeks off. Ater gulping down buttermilk, he asked if they practised every morning.

Pat came the non-chalant reply from the sisters, 'yes sir. we did'.

Upsi bought the harmonium and her sister got the mat. They were about to put the 'shruthi' on, when two cock-roaches jumped out of the reeds chamber of the harmonium.

The sisters squealed. Two week thick dust was dusted off and cockroach killed by the 6 year old cousin who happened to be around.

They learnt karnatic sangeetham for five long years.

The older cousins have flown the coop and the little cousins are still learning, back home. One among them stopped a few weeks ago when board exams intervened. Nobody has seen him that happy. Pointless to mention, none of Upsi's gen could sing.

But, it is hard to uproot something you are so familiar with right from your childhood. It becomes a part of you. Kind of inseparable. It might lie dormant, but boy, it would resurface one day! Sometimes with a vigor hard to quiten down.

For, Upsi is now seen running behind her little one, asking him to sit down on the mat - cross legged and facing her. And she goes, "Kannna......sa-pa-sa", repeat after me.

And an unsuspecting Kanna looks backat her and giggles.