Navarathri

Navarathri - My favorite season of the year. Appa chants the Suktham with reverence. I sit beside him looking at the Golu Mandap. Every time the name Janani comes in the sloka, he turns and looks at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I rejoice and smile back. I was 10 then.

I am 24. The scene has not changed. Appa continues to chant the Shuktham every day of Navarathri. And, we still share silent twinkles whenever my name comes in the sloka.

Navarathri is one grand celebration at home. This is my personal favorite among all the festivals. Not for no reason. All these 10 days, the ladies in the household are believed to be representatives of the Durga Mata. Perippa and Perimma would do special somethings for me as I am the daughter they never had. All my pranks with VKR are forgiven; No clauses attached.

The festivities start during our Quarterly holidays when Amma gets her free time, time away from her school work. All four of us get involved while setting up the golu mandap. The mud dolls are wrapped in clean cotton clothes which turn out to be our old dresses. Unfolding every doll from the tiny dress pieces brings nostalgic memories to Amma Appa. Besides nostalgia, Appa gets Nasal Allergy too, whenever a box is opened. I and VKR know the stories by heart, but every year we would make them recite it again.

The dolls unpacked, the Golu Stage set, a magnificent 7 stage mandap brings a new look to the hall. Of the rare things that interests Amma, arranging the Golu is one. Besides arranging the golu, she gives her special touch by setting up a park next to the mandap. The park is usually a township starting with a clay hill in the corner of the hall and roads diverging from it. My old dolls, VKR's cars and rockets, my kitchen set - all form a part of this township. Amma's special effects come handy now. She would place a glass palace in the middle of the township with all the tiny bottles she had collected from pharmacies (those lil transparent ones used to fill syringes). The building blocks we once played with would become the houses and the animals and birds set would form the zoo. The paper coffee cups would be miniature flower pots where she had sown pulses that would shoot up and grow as plants in the days to follow.

The arrangement is done. As the evening approaches, Amma decorates her darling son and daughter (thats me and VKR), sends them out to invite neighbours. Imagine two innocent kids dressed up as Radhe Krishna or as the policeman and his wife (this is VKR's fav as he gets to use the whistle attached with the dress) and what not, repeating the rehearsed dialogue at every house in the street. 'Aathula Golu Vachirkom. Avasyam Vaango'. All the neighbours turn up. There had been occasions when we went over enthu and ended up inviting people we barely knew, insisting that they come home to see the golu. The actual secret is we had lost our way and we had to be chauffered back to our place.

Its fun back home. A ladies special get-together. Appa wears a solemn face and smiles at everyone. When the preliminary inspection of the Golu is done, the gossip exchanges start. Amma is one of the two rare women who does not gossip. She dreads it when some aunty starts 'Ungalukku theriyuma teacher?'. It is impossible to hold back our giggles seeing amma trying to remain patient till the session is over.

The day ends when we get to taste the sundal varieties we gathered from our 'Nagarvalam' and thereby judge the culinary skills of their makers.

Today, I am in a land where the day dawns 5 hours ahead. Its almost lunch time here when my folks back home would still be hearing the morning news. … Called up Appa.

'Janani, ippo dhaan pooja mudinjadhu. Unna dhaan nenachinden.'

'Theriyum pa', I say.

Rules of certain games remain forever.