'Vara veena mrudu paani...' I remember bleating this out under duress, or so it seemed.
The year was 1982, and the occasion, 'Golu' at a Tamil family's house in the steel city of Bhilai. I was not yet ten. My attempt to render this geethe was encouraged by the aunties gathered around. I can recollect to this day the snigger of the motley gathering of 'more' accomplished youngsters. Have to add though that this was about the only odd note to the otherwise wonderful festival of dolls aka Gombe Habba.
I remember visiting a Bengali auntie's house along with a few other girls of my age. She would do 'Puja' to us and give us small gifts — chocolates, hair bands, colour pencils, scented erasers and the like. I remember the shundal that used to be given as prasada in some houses. And the fancy moving robots and cars arranged in other houses.
In Vizag, added to this mix of experiences was the Pujo. We kids-who-grew-into-teenagers would, among other things, gather there for the bhog, and dance to Rabindra Sangeet. Also not to be forgotten were the 'Ayudha Pooja' sweets — we were after all a steel plant.
Through the years, one thing remained constant — the theme-based dolls' arrangement by amma — never the traditional padi (steps) bombe. I vaguely remember her arranging Krishnavatara when I was a toddler. And then it was nursery rhymes like Twinkle Twinkle, Jack and Jill, Hickory Dickory Dock, etc. Scenes from fairy tales like Cinderella and Snow White were next. One year it was Gulliver's Travels and another year it was The Pied Piper of Hamlin with mice made from countless seeds of dates — grey paint, nose, ears and tail, all. As also Maya Bazaar.
As time went by and we moved to Bangalore, the themes changed and evolved. From Ramayana to Bhagavata, and from Dashavatara to Lakshmi Nrusimha Karavalamba Stotram, with other themes like Lalitha Sahasranama, Venkatesha Suprabhata, Shodasha Samskara, 'Glimpses from Kannada Literature' and 'Contributions of Indians to the World'. The zeal remained the same though. As also the Pattada Gombe of 'Raja Rani' who would grace each festival.
Another thing that continued was having friends and family members visit our home during the festival, and the encouraging / cajoling of children and adults to sing devara naamas or kritis.
Phone calls would start from the evening of Mahalaya and visitors would pour in over the next 10-odd days — sometimes a trickle or a stream, and other times, a waterfall. And amma would be there, smilingly welcoming them, asking after their family, and accompanying them around the room(s) as they saw the arrangements. We made many new friends in the process.
Seven Navaratris have gone by since she passed on. For me, though, this festival will always be a reminder of the zest for life that my mother, Smt. Usha Madhuranathan, was.