She had opened the trunk in the store room to take out some extra blankets for all the guests arriving that day. Just as she picked up the last one, she saw the small package. It was bound nicely in a plastic bag with a thin jute rope over it. She hesitated but then picked it up gently as if her touch would spoil it. Slowly, she took it in her arms and softly wiped the little dust that had gathered over it, as if cradling a baby. She was about to put it back but didn’t have the heart to do it. She took a deep breath and held it safely between her bosom and the pile of blankets in her arms as she carried them to her bedroom. Her 14 year old son came running to take the blankets from her. She smiled and told him that she’ll manage and instead he can just go put a lock to the trunk lid and lock the storeroom door. “Okay,” he said as he leapt on to the storeroom.
She went to her bedroom and carefully laid down the blankets on her bed. She gently picked up the package and quietly crept towards her cupboard. “Ma!” called her 17 year old daughter as she cautiously put the packet inside. “The pandit ji is here!”
She rushed out and on her way just stopped in front of the blankets and dusted them with her hands to remove soot, if any. They would be required if some guests stayed the night. She saw her daughter open the door as two saintly men took off their slippers and entered with folded hands. She also reciprocated slouched with folded hands as they exchanged smiles. One of them, who looked more senior and experienced asked whether everything was ready and she nodded and showed them the laid out ‘samagri’.
Pandit ji and his assistant saw all pooja material laid next to a wall and the mattresses laid all around them. They took their respective seats on a chauki (an elevated seat) and a chatai next to it. They spent the next 20-25 minutes making preparations. She too busied herself to help them with fruits to be laid in a thali, flower garland to be put on the pictures, the dhoop being lit, water in a cup for mixing with the roli, etc. The kids stood behind her and did whatever told. “Open the windows so that the smoke from dhoop and agarbatti doesn’t cloud inside the room.” “Go, run, and get some Tulsi leaves from the potted plant in the balcony.” “We need a bigger thali, please get it from the cabinet next to the kitchen chimney.”
All was ready to go now. The senior Pandit ji folded his hands, closed his eyes and uttered something in silence. Then he looked up and asked, “Aap sab hi pooja mein baithenge ya aur koi rishtedar bhi hain? (Only you guys will sit in the pooja or you have more relatives here?)” She looked around and thought about how they have been on their own now and managed the house within the family. But these kind of poojas are separate. The whole extended family is expected to be around.
“You start Pandit ji… In any case, the akhand paath will last whole day. Some relatives and neighbours will start arriving soon but most would come only in the evening. We have informed everyone though and have made all relevant arrangements too.”
With that the Pandit ji opened the holy book and started the pooja. She was right. Soon came her brother with his family and within few minutes her sister-in-law arrived with her kids. The neighbours also started pouring in as did more relatives. Some who lived nearby would leave to come back in the evening. And they were all busy arranging tea and food as well as evening snacks along with various requirements of the two pandits as they took turns reading the holy book. This had to continue all day and well into the evening. Someone or the other had to keep the holy book going at the constant speed. Her sister-in-law’s husband had arrived straight from his office in the evening and the hustle-bustle increased slightly, like it always did since the day he had married the daughter of the family.
By the evening, the pooja culminated with the bhog. Soon, the two pandits too took their generous dakshina happily and left. The entire family was exhausted beyond explanation. Yet, there was satisfaction written on their faces that the akhand paath had been completed without any difficulty. She had always been meticulous and was forever well-prepared. Everyone complemented her on managing things well.
The relatives too left by evening. The kids, always considerate and helpful, assisted her in cleaning things up and putting back the furniture. She sent them off to sleep soon after dinner. Her daughter asked whether anything was left to be done. She said that she only had to put the blankets back. The kids suggested that she do that next day. Both of them hated the storeroom and stayed away from it in the dark. She smiled and sent them off to bed as they had school the next day.
They left and five minutes later when she went to switch off the light in their room, she could already hear soft snores. She smiled and turned off the light. As she turned around, her eyes fell on the folded pile of blankets. Not used to leaving things strewn around, she picked them up and opened the storeroom despite what she had promised the kids. As she laid the blankets, she remembered the packet she had kept in the cupboard. She locked the storeroom and proceeded towards her room.
She stood before the open cupboard and debated whether she should take the packet out. Fighting her emotions, she picked it up and slowly put it on her bed. She sat beside it and opened the jute rope very cautiously. Then she took out the plastic cover. Something wrapped in a soft mul mul fabric then lay on her lap. With little tears streaming down her eyes, she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a gorgeous banarasi saree. The work was so intricate, nothing like this could be found in the market nowadays. This special one was about 20 years old and yet beautiful and well-preserved. It was her wedding joda… A bright red and gold Banarasi Katan Silk saree as it appeared in sharp contrast against her white saree that she had worn everyday since the last one year now.
© Nishtha Khurana, 2018. All rights reserved. The text as well as the pictures are both subject to copyright and are the property of the author. Please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
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