Makar Sankrant

This is not a post about what Makar Sankranti festival is all about. This is about what Makar Sankranti was to me.

I grew up in Nashik so the first thing that reminds me of Makar Sankranti is the kites. We used to start flying kites from December onwards and on this day the sky would be so full of kites that you could hardly make out that it’s blue. We had only one guy in my building and rest all 10-12 girls. I remember I used to be his crony for holding his chakri while he flies the kites. He taught me how to tie a thread to the kite, in a fashion known as ‘Mangalsutra’. I always wondered why we would call it ‘mangalsutra’. Obviously the analogy of the thread being tied to a kite, which was essential for the kite to fly high was attributed to the holy bonds of matrimony.

Kite flying was more competitive that even our exams. We used to get together on our building terrace and there used to be a huge competition on who cuts other’s kites. We used to should till our voices became hoarse and till it becomes so dark that you can’t see the sky at all!

I never learnt how to fly a kite. I was always the ‘chakri’ bearer.  Even when a group of college friends started flying kites, all I could get was to hold the kite for either soaring it high above or getting to hold it for 3 minutes when the kite was high in the air. For those 3 minutes, I would be ready to run around to fetch the fallen kites, get more thread, hold the kite tight and leave it in the air so that someone can fly it higher and what not.

As if the entire day spent like vagabounds was not enough, we would take a 180 degree turn in the evening. Evenings were for visiting friends and families, dressed in best clothes and eating as much of til gul as possible. It was also an occasion to eat all sweets in plenty. Inni and my mom would make ladoos and gul poli and all the sweets and I would actually get a scolding for eating too much of sweets by the time it was evening.

While I sit at my desk and write a blog remembering old times I feel fatigued. Somewhere in the race to make a living for myself I am missing out on all these things. This feeling does not come frequently, it’s days like these, when I should technically be outside shouting on top of my voice and flying kites, meeting relatives and eating sweets till I can stuff up no more, that’s the time I realize that I am not going anywhere. I am at my desk. Trying to work, imagining all my friends who are flying kites. Yet, I know, none of my friends are out there. They are all inside, making an honest day’s living, no sweating in the heat, no sore throats, no red eyes and no frolicking around.

We are what we chose to be and I chose to sit in the office and dream about the sky filled with kites outside!  

Home

"The places where you were the happiest are your favorite places after all" ~ Unknown

After a long time I went to my home town and stayed at my mom's place for 4 days. I go there often but I rarely stay so long. This time, I not only stayed for 4 days, I slept, ate and literally spent time alone in the house after so long. It surely opened a box of memories.

We moved in that place when I was 6 years old and I moved out when I was almost 25. I spent more that 20 blissful years in that house. I always tell my mother that even if I meet her often, I crave to stay and meet the house. It's a place where I have been most happy. 

It's a place where I started my school. It's a place where my friends would come over to play. It's a place where I and my sister used to fight over small things. It's a place where the bedroom was always occupied by my sister and granny so much so that even when both of them are not around, I and my mom still sleep in the hall. The hall was 'our' territory. Over the years, so many things changed in that house, the color of the rooms, the furniture, the people living in the house but the warmth is still there.

I love my home. I love to be alone at home. I never feel lonely when I am at my home. I am always at peace when I am at my mom's home. We have had an awesome childhood in that home. My home was closest to my college. A working mother ensured that the house was empty from 10-6 everyday and so my house was the first place we would hang out after college. We have had many fights, discussions, debates, and random weird activities in the house. 

It's a place where my darling little niece is born. It's a place from where I got married. It's a place where my kids will be born someday and like Ira, I hope they also look forward to visiting the home every vacation. 

Some places are always special to us. My home is one such place where I am the happiest person of all.