Adieu, 2019

God is being good to me.

Durgapur was shrouded in fog on Monday the 23rd, so it was a miracle that my flight took off hardly half an hour late. I kept falling asleep on the flight, and the stewardess was kind enough to take away my food tray without waking me up. Arrived in front of Pupu's and Shilpi's office a little before 1 p.m., and we came over to Shilpi's flat - the new and bigger one - for lunch together. Then I had a lovely snooze while they went back to work. Talk about the perks of old age! I slept in Pupu's smart new digs that night, right in the next street, snug as a bug in a rug. As I said, I am infinitely thankful. What comfort, what joy, what peace... what a contrast with a tormented childhood and youth, full of privations and disappointments! What a blessing that I remember such a multitude of details so keenly, so that I can savour the difference so intensely!

The highlight of Tuesday, Christmas Eve, was the lovely dinner party we had at home, with Pupu, Shilpi, Aparna, Milli, Arpita, Pratyush and Kartikeya to warm my old bones while filling up on kebabs and wine and pizza. And  reciting poems off the top of my head, with a quietly attentive audience. Imagine, I was telling myself: I memorized these lines long before these kids were born!

Christmas Day was spent lazing and luxuriating, with a mid-afternoon walk around Lodi Gardens, something I can never have enough of. And regaling Pupu with another Parashuram story before going to bed...

The next four days were busy, because they were working days for both Pupu and Shilpi, and we got up early every morning to commute to a posh private school in Gurgaon, where Katha was holding their annual festival. About that, in a separate post, soon. I did a storytelling session in the course of the Parents' and Teachers' Colloquium (photo below) which most of them apparently enjoyed enough to ask for more. Kartikeya, in particular, was inspired to dub me with an honorific of his own coinage: 'Sircle' (Sir+Uncle).

Sunday was Pupu's birthday. Another dinner, at a fancy restaurant of the young folks' choice in Hauz Khas village.

These last two days have been spent lazing again. It's very foggy till midday, and bitterly cold: taking a bath is an ordeal, and sitting around in the mellow sunshine in the nearby park pure bliss. An astrologer had predicted long ago that in 2019 I'd find peace: it seems he was more than half right!

A new year dawns tomorrow. In this world swept by endless tides of artificially whipped up excitement quickly forgotten, does anyone remember APJ Abdul Kalam, and his once-much tomtommed Vision 2020 for India?

During this holiday I read Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's new opus, The Forest of Enchantments, or, as she has alternatively called it, the Sitayan. Very well written, though not in the same class as The Palace of Illusions.

The photo below is of a tiny tot who attended all four days of the Katha Festival with her mother, an angel of utterly lovable patience. Kept bringing to my mind Tagore's remark that the birth of every child is a reassurance that God has not yet given up on Man.

God tussi great ho! Peace on earth, and joy to all men of goodwill. Also, may all those who burn inside with all kinds of negative emotions, such as envy and spite and greed, find solace and comfort in the new year.