Kids Corner


Chandigarh Soap Opera - The Patriarch Arrives


Oh, Ye of the lost innocences, how the cover of darkness hides us..

Rhea was amazed at the lines which were repeating in her mind while she was staring at the crowd collected in her
living-room similar to the glass-eyed looks of a cow. Everyone was busy with a glass of the finest wine, single-malt whiskey (if you please ) and the bar operated by Karan had everything going.

There was something for everyone. He really had splashed out to celeberate the arrival. How is that an ivy-league education, a
modern upbringing, everything gets clouded by the birth of a son?

There was so much disparity, or maybe she was just plain tired. Rhea made her excuses and moved to her room where she checked on the baby in the crib and Kudrat sleeping on the bed sucking her thumb; insecurities surfacing.

Karan entered the room brandishing the famous robin's egg blue Tiffany box. Forgetting her aches and pains, she exclaimed "Wow!"

You had to and it over to him ... the panache and style made him the man he was. She hugged and kissed him..The card from Tiffany's said, "There are times to celebrate, this is one of them ... Enjoy! Love, Karan."

The sapphire ring encased with diamonds had an engraving on the inner side. She was going to be the envy of the gals, eat your heart out ! She thought:.Nobody, and that is nobody, had ever been gifted a gift straight from Tiffany & Co. She had made it to the top. In fact she thought it was worth all the pain and putting up with the relatives.

Closing the door, and looking at Karan who was waiting for her near the bed, she thanked her stars for being blessed.

Mama, would look after the guests and would send them along, and tomorrow anyway was an important day. Daarji was coming to bless the baby from the pind (village). She wondered, closing her eyes,  what was in store for her.

Daarji's entrance

He strode in, clad in an immaculate cotton white kurta-pjyama, wrapped in the softest pashmina toosh lohi, his footsteps beating a bee-line to his grand-son's room. He was followed by his man-servant, Momin, who was there always in his shadows,  anticipating his every whim and fancy. Never ever, since he had crossed over from Sind, the land south west of Punjab, had he ever said no to his master to whom he was bound till death. This practice which had all but died out was upheld by him as
a testimony to the zamindar-naukar traditions which were unexplainable as they were tied by invisible bonds.

Clearing his throat to announce his entrance, he walked in boldly to glance at his sleeping grand-daughter who was more precious to him than anyone else in his life. The look which she gave him and the lisp ... it just tugged at his heart. Agreed, the khaandaan 's line was assured but this lil' girl was his jaan.

Gazing at his grand-son who was sleeping in the day-crib adjacent to her, bathed in the morning sun, he was a throw-back on the family's good looks. Walking out to the family living-room, he glanced at the furnishings which were de rigueur in
every up-scale home in Chandigarh, but did these crystal pieces and Laliques, silver artefacts, promise happiness and peace?

He had travelled all this way from the pind to make peace with Parkash, an enigma of a woman, if anything. He was different from her as chalk was from cheese, but the love they shared for their child united them and they kept up appearances and now it was time for the round in Chandigarh. He had to go through a lot this month, with all the celebrations and the huge paatth which was being organised for the naam karan (naming ceremony).

Getting back to his Sudoku, he waited patiently for his Sardarni to walk in ...


December 15, 2009

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