I heart my new blog template. It is like my favorite moment all rolled up in comfort zone style sleeping bags with squashy down lining. Squishy as well. Long drive with the car windows rolled up, decent amount of brishti outside, droplets forming rivulets on the window, which I follow with my eye, racing raindrops in my mind. Purono hindi gaan in the A.C wala inside and lots of grown ups talking and laughing, sitting 5 or six of us, wedged into the backseat of the car. Uncles giving deep throated Ha-ha's and aunties with ample shoulder space forming crevices to lean my head against, me seeking comfort in the clamour of their golpo. A Bangla gaan sung by one of the Uncles- whoever has the best voice and there generally Is one of them. He is joined by corresponding Aunty. And then even the rest who can't stay in tune join in, and the car is filled with baritones, lusty voices and one or two out of tune squawks for good measure. Dhitang dhitang bole is Always sung. For some reason, I always heard this one line as "Aay re aay, komor bedhe aay, murgi ra shob naache, komor bedhe aay" as a kid and used to imagine a line of chickens, tied at the waist (do chickens have waists?) dancing away and squawking. Merry image, no? Actually, in all honesty, it kinda scared me- yes, I found livestock terrifying. I was a Brave little kid.
Another song that is always sung is "Ke tumi, Nandini", with pointed glances and flourishes of hands towards my mother, 'cuz if you haven't guessed it by now, She Is Nandini. But the one song that Always makes me happy is Mon haralo. I prefer it playing from a cassette. Then I'm tugged away into thoughts of Shantiniketan and other green places and nothing, no, not even livestock, makes me unhappy. A lot of the time, Uncle-with good-voice and Aunty-with-good-voice-and-wide-kaajal-rimmed-eyes aren't singing because they're too busy talking and then the radio is on, or some old cassette that someone dug up, precisely for the purpose of a squashy, noisy, happy long drive is put in. The majority of them tend to be purono Hindi gaan, and I sing along to "Ye ladka hai allah" while leaning my head against the beautifully cold window and staring at the raindrops, imagining daydreams in my head (generally involving Sharukh Khan driving along on a bicycle beside the car, till around age 10 for some reason- alright, I had a crush on him and don't shake your head at me, at least it's better than Simba).
Happiness. And I'm 18 now. I think I'm still a kid of 10 in some places inside my head.