Pic couirtesy: www.abcnews.go.com
Pic courtesy: http://www.wilstar.com/observances/us/parents-day/
Yesterday was Raksha Bandhan - the festival of tieing a thread on the hand of brother by the sister and asking and expecting protection throughout life whenever she will require her brother. The festival is celebrated in Nothern India as I know.
Yesterday, we too celebrated Raksha Bandhan. My sisters came and tied Rakhi on my hand.
My mom aged 78 too went to my meternal uncle's home to tie Rakhi.
We all were very happy and enjoyed the occasion.
Most important of all was my heart to heart chat with my father aged 80. I am 58. He told me: when we were students, we used to miss the school and hide our satchels in the bushes and go to see "Chhanj" a local wrestling bout at a place which was 16 kilometer from the village.
At that time, there were no buses, no conveyance. Only one Muslim had a horse cart and he was treated as wealthiest person in the area. It was around 1945.
And in 1947, that wealthy Muslim too migrated to Pakistan because India was devided into India and Pakistand. Father laughed a lot when narrating this incident.
Another bout of laugh came to me when dear father told me : Do you know on my marriage what was the shagun? I said no. It was 1 kg rice and 1.25 rupees.
I laughed a lot. Shagun is an Indian way of ceremony when a young boy is betrothed for marriage with a young girl i.e. my mother. Now even buying a candy costs 4 times more than shagun money.
We talked a lot. Father kept on sharing old memories. We laughed a lot.
I felt as if this is the best night of my life.