The janvar with two homes
When we moved houses
From Chembur to Colaba
The do-sar-wala janvar
Was heartbroken
And head-separated
So, on some weekends
We would exchange homes
I going to Chembur or
He coming to Colaba
After school, after lunch on Friday
I would accompany Appa
To his office
On the cream coloured
TIFR bus
(No tickets: imagine!)
I would muck around on his typewriter
And with the microscope
In the lab next door.
Then Appa would hand me over
To Sharmaji for the journey
To Chembur
We would travel to VT station
On the TIFR bus
(No tickets!)
And Sharmaji would park me
At the book stall with
An injunction not to move
While he got me my ticket
Then holding his hand tightly
(“Haath mat chhodna, beta”)
We would navigate the crowds
Utter chaos
To my five year old eyes
How on earth would I ever
Be able to do this by myself?
The indicators showed
Not where the trains would stop
(But rather perversely to me)
“This train will not halt at”
Once on the train
I would watch the stations
Pass by
Masjid, Sandhurst road (upper level)…
All the way to Kurla.
Then Chembur station
Nowhere near as chaotic as VT
Sharmaji shopping for vegetables
And finally the home stretch
Where I could leave his hand
And run ahead, shouting
Nannu, Nannu
Shashi aunty would wonder
Mai khaana kya pakaoon?
To which Sharmaji’s immediate reply
Would be
Arre Madhu aaya hai
Jaroor Aloo ke parathe banana hoga
So, Aloo parathas for dinner
And two blissful days
Where the jaanvar revisited
Its old haunts
Monday morning breakfast
Was aloo parathas again (Joy!)
And head for home
The journey in reverse;
Home with Appa for lunch
Monday school blissfully bunked
The next weekend
Nannu would visit:
Well, I’ll leave it to him
To write that poem
Now, though we live
On different continents
And have done for decades
I can still recall
Mouthwateringly
Shashi aunty’s aloo parathas
And Sharmaji’s meethi lassi
As I am sure he recalls
Mouthwateringly, too
Appa’s Masala Dosas and
Amma’s sambaar and
Nannu-special chutney
