Springtime symphony and sweet childhood fantasy of romance

Its homecoming in springtime after a good 11 years. And boy! Did I miss this time of the year all these years away from home? You bet I did. Though strangely, I always took it for granted when I had been at home years ago.

My earliest memories of springtime in Assam dates back to our childhood days to a season which was just perfect-the days and nights were rendered equal and it would be neither too cold nor too warm ... the weather would be fresh and clear, warm and sunny yet had the first few showers of the year for the dry leafless trees to bud out new green foliage slowly making them blossom into a variety of colorful blooms in red, pink and yellow... the cunning cuckoo birds cooing their way to the crows' nests to lay their eggs... the brain-fever birds would whistle bou koka kote (mom where's dad?) constantly, till one starts whistling with them without even knowing it... while the exotic orchids and other sweet smelling flowers of spring would bloom their best, the fragrant breeze transforming the environment into an earthly paradise...

I remember the times when we would visit both my parents native places in upper Assam during springtime. Around mid-April, with the first day of Bohag starting the Assamese new year, the Bohag Bihu or Rongali Bihu would usher in a period of great fun, merriment and colours, marking the arrival of the spring season. Young girls would colour their palms and feet with saffron pigments of freshly ground jetuka (henna leaves)... women folk would prepare assamese delicacies and snacks like pitha (dry rice cakes stuffed with sweetened coconut or sesame seeds) and laaroos (sweetened sesame or coconut balls) in every household, some women in the villages even weaving homemade bihuwans (white cotton veils with red floral patterns) to be presented to their near and dear ones as a gift expressing love and respect. During those bihu days, everyone would adorn new traditional attires like dhoti, saador-mekhela, present bihuwans to elders and loved ones, invite each other for feasts, functions and fairs organized at several places, setting a mood of festivity and gaiety all throughout Assam. The whole atmosphere would inspire unbounded joy and enthusiasm expressed through dances, songs, and other festivities. Hundreds of young unmarried men and women in the village would be seen moving about in groups, gaily dressed to perform Bihu dance. Pretty young girls would dance brisk and sensuously moving their hips, arms and the upper parts of their bodies to the rhythm of the wild beats of dhol (hollow musical drums) and to the lusty tunes of pépa (buffalo hornpipes) and gogona (another musical instrument made of bamboo), all of these played by the handsome young men. Young couples in love would sing and dance to songs woven around themes of romance expressing love for their sweethearts, whole day long, sometimes late into the night in open fields, roadsides, on specially constructed stages or performing from house to house. The young lissome girls would dress in their best traditional muga mekhela saador (a two-piece skirt-and-shawl set, woven out of golden silk fibers with red floral patterns) and red blouses, kopou phul (a beautiful white and purple colored long orchid) adorning their jet-black hair tied in neat buns and jetuka-tinted palms. The men would wear white cotton dhotis and muga (golden silk) kurtas and tie bihuwans around their heads and waists.

Every year my sister and I would gleefully listen to the romantic escapades of at least 1 young couple in the vicinity of our grandparents' neighbourhood, who would elope and get married during this time of the year... as if it was almost like a tradition that had to be followed with each passing year. And being the hard-core romantic I am, I would think to myself that one day when I grow up, I would fall in love and get married only at this time of the year, my lover carrying me in his arms into a sunset of a happily ever after future together.

Alas! Our childhood dreams and wishes doesn't always come true. My husband is neither from Assam, nor did we get married in Spring. And knowing him, I can tell, he might find all of this stupid, ridiculous and far from anything that is his idea of romance. But the fact remains that in the evenings when I go up to our terrace after sunset to feel the cool spring breeze caress my face, to let the cacophony of the songs of the various migratory birds deafen my ears to all the other sounds of civilization and to fill my nostrils and lungs with the unpolluted air mixed with the fragrance of the many spring flowers, my childhood fantasy flashes back in my mind. And it brings a smile on my lips, a sparkle in my eyes and a spring in my steps. Skipping a beat in a heart, I think of my husband who is far far away, buried in his books nose-deep at the moment...

A lost part of me

Date: 13th March' 10.
Time: Early morning.
I stared at the stick in disbelief. Two straight, pink lines. No doubt about it…PREGNANT. Oh my God! A month ago, when we had our doubts and visited a doc, she confirmed in negative. Now all of a sudden positive. I did not know whether to be happy or sad. My pregnancy was not 'unwanted' but we were not just ready to accept that the doctors can goof up on something so simple as this. I had wanted a baby badly and for so much time now. The baby bug had bitten me long long time before I was even married. But the doctors had created a lot of confusion for us over these 2 months. And this wasn't a good time for me to get pregnant as it was a time to pack all our stuff and move on to the next location. Husband was going to be away from me for a couple of months... even more. So, I wouldn't get his moral and physical support which I heard is very essential for first-timers like us. But I thought since we were going to be away from each other for a while now, the least I could do was to have our first baby from the man I loved so. And it just happened, though I didn't think God would answer my prayers and it would happen so fast. Now a mix of excitement and sheer terror washed over me. Of course I was sure I wanted to have this baby. Good Lord, what was I thinking? Husband, on the other hand, had a practical yet indifferent approach. He made it clear that since we wouldn't be together for sometime now, I would have to take care of things by myself. He had to be deeply engrossed in his studies for a very important exam that would matter a lot in his career growth. And here I was, so foolish in love carrying his child in my womb, thinking of nothing else but the tiny soul growing inside me every day. My skin and complexion glowed. Nausea was my constant companion. I had developed an undying urge to gorge on gol-gappas and South-Indian food. I could never go anywhere near food and not have the tendency to throw up. My bladder had shrunk to the size of a kidney bean, which required me to pee exactly every thirteen minutes. My body was on this wild, hormonal ride, and I had terrible mood-swings. But I was adamant. It hit me even more when we saw the first sonogram of our baby on the monitor. That's when I really and truly realized this was my baby… 'our' Baby. The past nausea-weeks, the frequent urination, and all the other inconveniences, well, they just melted away. Nothing seemed to matter anymore as I looked at this amazingly tiny person inside my womb. At just 6 weeks old, my little miracle was already formed so perfectly, yet so small… just about four centimeters... with a tiny helpless heart beating... almost like a flickering flame. But I have to say, the most amazing transformation of all... how neurotic I had become about this little person inside me. I was so happy I cried out of joy. And I was amazed to see the sparkle in my husband's eyes. How proud he looked. And happy. This was the first time I saw sheer joy in him about 'our baby' and the fact that he finally got ready to become a father. He was all caring and loving and kissed my little Buddha-belly about ten times a day. We didn't know if it'd be a girl or a boy, but my husband started calling the baby 'junior' already. When he asked me what name are we gonna decide and how, I had 2 names ready for a baby girl and a baby boy, whoever arrived. But I felt we'd have a little girl... plump and fair, who would look exactly like her dad. I'd picture her dressed in frilly frocks, curly hair with ribbon-laced pony-tails, taking her first steps, walking to school, growing into her teens, getting her driver's license, going to college, getting married, having babies of her own... her whole life would flash right before my eyes. I would have thoughts about what a big, ugly world is waiting out there for 'her'.... the one filled with bad people, heartbreaks, cancer, violence, drugs, alcohol, teenage-pregnancy, depression and suicide... and then I would go to my husband and hug him tight, thanking God that I don't just have a man who I love, but a real man to father our love child, supported by an institution of marriage, a man who is strong enough to stand by me and my baby and protect us both from the ugliness of this bad world. And I would instantly feel safe and secure. Whenever I stepped into a departmental store to shop for some summer wear, I would be automatically drawn towards the maternity section without even realizing it. I would pick up pregnancy books from bookstores when I had actually stopped to buy the latest best-sellers.
And then my nightmare began...
In the midst of all the chaos of shifting locations and our stuff from the north to the northeast, the excitement of experiencing this essence of being a woman in the truest sense, my whole world of dreams just shattered before my eyes, without me being able to do anything at all about it. I lost our first ray of hope and the soul beating inside me. I was torn apart and I had to give it all up---my dreams, my hopes, my smiles... I never felt this weak before. I cried my heart out, but I knew nobody could wipe out my tears within... nobody could take away my pain... nobody could make me guilt-free... nobody could fill the void that shadowed that phase of my life without my husband near me... nobody could give me answers to anything at all... But in that instant I realized there were many more sadder things that could have happened. I realized that whatever happens, might happen with a good reason. I realized that I cannot give up on life and hope and that we have to carry on with life as it comes to us. But most of all, I realized what it is like to be ready in all senses to really become a mother to a little person who would be born out of me some day.
The best part of this most painful experience in my life is that husband and I have discovered each other again and it feels like we have fallen in love with each other again... just like for the first time ever...

One of his kind

It's a special occasion...the air's scented with the sweet smell of love; I am in my best of moods and the object of my affection stands tantalizingly silhouetted against the full moon. There couldn't have been a better ambiance to induce tender loving words. In keeping with the magic of the moment, I lean across and whisper some sweet nothings into his ear. He begs to be pardoned and says, "Why are you whispering?" At moments like this, I am convinced that my husband either suffers from selective blindness (and hearing), or he could be a masochist or could it be that he really doesn't even realize when he blows it all? I feel a bit of a fraud to be picking on him, when I always thought I am crazy about him being in my life, yet deep down inside, I know, he is kinda sweet and charming in his own innocent way. He is helpful and helpless, smart and dumb, not necessarily according to the situation. But still, I can't pretend that he is perfect. He has a few intolerable virtues. For clarification, I have listed a few...

He believes in sharing. The marriage vows seem to have made a profound impact on him as he is suddenly faced with the harsh realities of another being occupying his space, house, bed and everything else. But the context of sharing and its meaning can be very conveniently changed depending entirely on the intricacies of job in hand. He will never meddle in what he considers my domain. He will keep waiting at the dining table for lunch/dinner (as I juggle with the almost-done crispy fried prawns from the stove to the table, bringing together the cutlery and the remaining dishes of the meal and my mobile rings right at that moment) and he might just announce in a humble yet piteous tone, "Honey, where's my glass of water?" My point is not that he has lived in the house much before we have been married without even discovering where the kitchen sink is, but that he thinks I have the stamina and ability to handle all of those mundane things at that same instant because that's my domain.

He has a very good memory. He is brilliant at remembering facts and figures: When was Hailey's Comet last sighted? Where was India's first computer installed? Which is Indian Army's oldest battalion? Which is the 33rd Article of the Constitution? It is obviously unreasonable to expect one so weighed down with relevant data to remember simple facts like our 6 month anniversary, or did we buy a wine-opener for our house the last time we went shopping for household stuff or we have to pay the cable-guy. These things I will have to go through remembering for life.

He tries to improve my memory. Operating on the suspicion that I actually have a good memory but pretend to have a poor one situationally, he'd ask me about things that I have never even seen or heard of before. Things/documents that he'd keep himself, but insist that I kept them safely somewhere, when they are misplaced.

He allows me to make very important decisions...because he has so much respect for my superior wisdom, nice taste and great decision-making skills, he is constantly asking me questions like "Do we need to refill our wine stock?" or "what's for dinner tonight?" or "what car should we buy?"

Advocate of togetherness. He has finally agreed to accept a few things like "our quarter" or "our lawn". But under certain circumstances, the items that were "our" joint concern, suddenly becomes "Your plants aren't looking too healthy" or on another occasion "Your curtains need a wash" or even "My cupboard and my dressing table has no space for my stuff anymore".

He will give me an honest opinion when I don't need it at all. On one occasion when I had just put on a newly purchased 'Patiala Salwar' (those harem-pants variety), he said, "Darling, what's with the joker pants? Please change into something decent." And I never got to wear my sexy 'gladiator flats' to any of the army parties because my husband thought they don't look feminine.

He tries his best to make the marriage work. At least by not even being remotely bothered or concerned about petty things that bother me so much. He is lost in his own world of work, television and sleep.

These things often remind me that I'm not perfect either and there might be so many things about me which he hates, but never complains. I ask myself...Do married people fight? Of course they do. Does this mean they are not in love? Of course it doesn't. The more you love somebody, the madder you can get with him, especially when he has mastered the diabolical art of how to emotionally harass the spouse by not retaliating, not fighting back, not even getting upset with any amount of nagging and yet stay 'happily' married with a cool and content temperament all throughout. And then when I completely lose it and burst into tears, irritable and helpless at his indifferent attitude, with a faraway philosophical gaze he announces, "Silly girl! Come here, come to me.." and hugs me tight wrapping me around with his arms on his chest, and says, "Baby, you have no idea how much I love you. I'm all yours. Now tell me what's bothering you?" That takes away all the complaints from my life. And I think to myself, "He is the one I want to be forever with". Sigh!