Make Money, Its Navratri!!

A group of little girls, dressed in their best Indian finery greeted me as I was climbing up the stairs today. Giggling and pulling each other’s leg they were anxiously counting the money they made at my neighbours house.

I smiled, waved out and turned around to see them rush into another house.

Rewind 20 years and I would have been one of them.

Here’s why:

Two days prior to Dusshera are Ashtami and Navami....... days when all young girls popularly known as Kanjaks are welcomed into the house, treated as reincarnations of goddess Durga, worshipped, made to eat appetizing chana, puri, halwa and yes, given money as a token of love and appreciation.

These two days the girls visit one house after the other like little princesses, getting pampered and calculating who made more money than the other. Of course, the girls are too young to understand the religious sentiments behind this age old custom. No wonder, I feel extremely ashamed now having told one my aunts “woh wali aunty ne aap se zyaada paise diye” Sheeeshhhh I was cheap!!!

But for me and all girls that age, it’s a fantastic holiday, it’s time to be showered with love, blessings, appreciation, LOTS OF MONEY and a time to get mollycoddled like never before J

I used to make some good money too. Close to 200 bucks in two days. Can you imagine what that kind of money would mean to a 7 year old?

We girls used to then pool in our collection and visit the oh-so-magnificent-out of bounds-food paradise called Nirula’s. The thought of visiting Nirula’s, a restaurant strictly meant ONLY for SPECIAL occasions and relishing the tomato soup, dal makhani, naan and mushroom capsicum onion pizza all sponsored by someone else’s money was sort of a cheap thrill but hey, who cares? I didn’t care then, I wouldn’t care now!

This WAS a BIG deal for us and we felt these two days just belonged to us – no studies, no punishments, no discipline, no chores, nothing. A full blown tribute to girl power. Yay!  

Meeting these tiny tots trotting down the stairs today, I couldn’t help but smile to myself reminiscing those innocent childhood days. I was glad that in an age when kids seem to outsmart their parents and are far more advanced, knowledgeable, savvy than what we were...something’s still remain the same.

And I hope, they always do. Happy Navratri everyone! J

Navratri, Lokhandwala Durga Puja Pandal

 

I am a South Indian OR am I?

Socially when you meet people, very often they end up asking – So where are you from? In most occasions the answer is simple – You name your hometown and the conversation continues.

In my case, the scenario is slightly different.
Here’s how –

XYZ – Your surname is Rao, are you Kannadiga?
Me – No
XYZ – Oh, then Telegu is it?
Me – Well, Yes and No
XYZ (Surprised) – Yes and No, what is that supposed to mean?
Me – See, my father is from Vishakhapatnam and my mother is originally from Orissa
XYZ – Oh so you are a mix of Andhra and Orissa. So do you speak Telegu and Oriya at home?
Me – Well, No....see my grandfather settled in Delhi so my father grew up there and my maternal grandparents settled in Nagpur and my mom was born and brought up there
XYZ – Oh ok
Me – And there is more...Both my brother and me were born and brought up in Delhi
XYZ – Ah, that means you are a Delhite?
Me – But now I live in Mumbai
XYZ – So you are a mix of Delhi and Mumbai?
Me – Ughh...maybe but I am a Rao...

And usually, by the end of the conversation both me and the person I am talking to are left a bit confused.

This is because in spite of being a Rao, I don’t speak or understand Telegu. My mother tongue happens to be Oriya but again, I can’t speak the language and barely understand it. I was born and brought up in Delhi so the only languages I learnt in school were Hindi, English and at home, we spoke the same.

When relatives came over, we were supposed to impress them with a couple of words from our native language. Mom used to tell us how to greet them in a certain way but this was limited to some once in two year visits. Mom, we speak Hindi and English...stop forcing this on us....we would say and soon Telegu and Oriya flew out of the window.

Food again was territorial so I grew up on chole bhature, halwa, aloo poori, maa ki dal, butter chicken, naan, aloo/paneer/gobi/onion or even namak paratha, gol gappe and dahi bhalla. My taste buds weren’t accustomed to idli vada, sambar, rasam or dosa except some rare occasions (which were far and few)

We lived in Delhi where most of my neighbours were Punjabis (I’ve practically grown up in their houses) so celebrating Navratri, Lohri and making annual trips to Vaishno Devi became a norm. In fact I can’t recollect a single memory of celebrating South Indian festivals with such fan fare.

Thus, the question – “Where are you from” always leaves me puzzled.

Till very recently, I used to evade the question and say – I am hybrid. I am a mix of lot of things and it’s a long story so let’s just leave it at that. But some curious buggers wanted to solve this mystery and kept bombarding me with their – How, Why, But, What etc.

So finally, I caved in. Now whenever I am asked, I say – I am a South Indian and the conversation continues to other worldly matters.

Even though, I have never lived in South India, must have visited the place max 5 times so far, don’t eat South Indian food at home, don’t speak any South Indian languages, don’t follow South Indian customs and traditions but for convenience sake, I am a South Indian.

Or, am I?