Ch-11
My name is Elizabeth Parvati John. Confusing. Ain't it? My dad's John Jacob. And mom's Gitanjali Lakshmi Devi. A total mixed marriage. Dad wanted some hints of Christianity in my name and mom some hints of Hinduism. So lo! And behold my name is conceived. And how come i am still a Hindu? Mom told dad to bring me up a Hindu. He did object but mom was furious. As dad loved mom, i am a Hindu. My dad's still a Christian. And i love that religion. Now to the matter at hand, mom calls me Liz, Beth, Becky, Eli, et cetera. And 'Bhecky' was a la deshi version of Becky..... What a contradicting world indeed! I would rather call it crazy!!! She was having a crease on her forehead, suggesting discomfort, for i had been rudely staring at her, while being lost in my endless stream of thoughts....
"Namaste amma"
"Namaste bete...."
"Amma, mujhe Paro bula lijiye. Mera naam Parvati hai." My mom had warned me beforehand what the consequences of my first and last name would be.
Our talk ranged from nothing to everything. She was the only person knowing good Hindi in the village, as she had good relationship with my mom. She used to take care of my mom. She was more sort of a foster mom. My mom knew little of the village language, which is thought too low to be learned by Brahmins. So, thanks to my mom, she knows Hindi. She spoke at length about how deep and strong was her relationship with my mom, how naughty my mom was and all the small stories which this old lady had treasured like gems in her heart. I saw her eyes getting wet. I saw the tears rolling down her folded skin, in a wave like pattern. She was so composed, she quickly dried her eyes. But the emotions had been kindled and the tears took their course so naturally. Her voice was heavy as she described my mom's childhood and somewhere inside me a voice told it's too much. I couldn't any longer see her crying and laugh coz it's a happy event. My own eyes were getting moist and my tear glands had ignited my nose and i had a flowing nose, much to my disgust. I told, it's time for me to go. Said, she should come along and have some water. She was so glad, with joy, again the momentarily stopped tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. I took her home, gave her water and made sure that she wasn't crying. She wobbled off, a little while later before the sun set. Again i found myself in bed that night, accomplished nothing but storing a bunch of damp, moist memories in my heart's brain and some beautiful moments with an old lady, much to my satisfaction. And also, before i forget to add, i also have a flowing nose and a headache (for which i couldn't find any particular reason).