The 'cashewian moment'

Pink January Days ; And An Unexpected Encounter!

Puppets awaiting  rich customers 

Amma and me reached Jaipur on a pleasant and cool evening. The first thing that captivated me was the painting on the wash room doors at the airport. The lady with the big, kajal rimmed eyes and the shimmering sari  looked sensuously at me, while her masculine, bearded man sported a warm smile.
Thus being welcomed nostalgically by the lovely ‘Rajasthani‘ couple, we walked out of the airport hoping to meet more such bearded men and beautiful women.

Outside, we were welcomed by my friend and his friend- both of them, beardless, thereby shattering my hopes of meeting big bearded Rajasthani men. We were then taken to a hotel in a cab, the cab driver- again beardless! At the booking counter of the newly opened, generously lit hotel lobby, extravagantly decorated with sculptures of beautiful Greek women and the newspaper imprinted upholstered sofa, I met a few men, all of them beardless, yet again! Before this write-up turns into an article on Rajasthani beards, let me wind up by busting the myth that Rajasthan isn’t just about bearded, dhoti-clad men as the airport washroom door deceives you into believing. And well, this is Jaipur!

 With 'The Beardless and the Bearded'. 

Jaipur is a beautiful city to be in especially in the month of January.

The hotel room was a luxury. I enjoyed the warm shower and the Darjeeling tea. I drew a smile with my wet finger on the fogged up glass pane while revelling in the bath. After a while, we were escorted by Rajesh and his friends to a restaurant where we had dinner. But the best part was the pan chewing which I truly enjoyed! Kailash’s stern and serious command that “it should be chewed for one hour!” was obeyed and I chewed on till the juices had all been dunked down. All refreshed, we headed back to our cosy room.  The white cosy blanket pulled me into its folds and soon I was lost in my dreams.

The days that followed were spent mainly at the Diggi palace where the grand literary festival was taking place. It was great to watch and listen to so many people from various countries. I was amused to see many aged men and women thronging the book stalls and eagerly waiting for an autograph of their favourite authors like kids awaiting  ice golas.

The literati checking out 'The Royal Rajasthani Masala Chai'

The next two nights were spent at Rajesh’s tiny little flat. Gooseberry branches shade the staircase. The dinner prepared by Kailash and Rajesh needs special mention. With great expertise they did a great job of it and I, a gourmet,self made cook and a researcher on food felt like hitting my head with the chapatti rolling pin, marvelled at their cooking skill.  After dinner, the boys left and we dozed off to sleep.

 I woke up to a beautiful, bright morning full of surprises- bird chirpings, the cute Labrador  downstairs, gooseberries, music and hot tea!  Well begun is half done, right? The day was well spent.

Gooseberries!

The next day I fought with my mother for some silly reason. Even trivial things can entail serious consequences. I was left on my own (rather by choice) for the rest of the whole day! Literary enthusiasts, bookworms, scholars, intellectuals, poets, writers, school children were jostling for space to catch a glimpse and listen to their favourite authors speak. And there I was, finding my way through the crowd. Javed Akhtar was amusing the masses with his poetic lines in Urdu. Unable to understand Akhtar, I stood there restless and a bit suffocated.

 “Are you from Jaipur?”the man who stood next to me asked, with a warm smile. He might have sensed the uneasiness and a feeling of being lost in my eyes. Pretending to be smart and all happy, I said “No!”.  “Oh...Delhi?”, he quickly added. “I’m from Kerala”, I said and waded off his curiosity. I’m not quite sure why he was curious in the midst of the interesting session that he himself was quite visibly interested in. The young man continued with his talk.

 “An Engineer with a soft corner for literature”- that’s how he described himself. He soon invited me for coffee and a literary discussion. My mind was somewhere else all this while. (...Where would my mother be? Why isn’t she ringing me up? My wallet is almost empty. My phone isn’t getting connected...). I didn’t refuse his offer but he knew (from my expressive face I guess, thanks to all those Bharatnatyam lessons!) that I wasn’t so keen on it.

“I’m not hitting on you or anything” he chimed in, amidst the heart touching Urdu poetry and the applauding, cheering crowd. I smiled it off and waited there for a couple of minutes more before I left ‘The Engineer with a soft corner for literature’ all to himself and the crowd.

And I spent the next four to five hours in solitude. With myself.