Mothers, travels and trials.....

It was March 2017. I opened the inbox of my email and found an invitation. " We invite you to an International Storytelling Festival in the continent of Africa ? Would you be interested?" I was naturally excited to travel so far away to listen, share and exchange stories. There were on and off exchanges with the Professor coordinating the project. With the undulating updates about the funds, the entire project would be called off it seemed. Hmmm…

My family was also waiting for the confirmation email but when it came, we had reasons to be happy and sad. The date of departure from Hyderabad changed in the last minute from Sep 3rd to Sep 2nd. I had to leave on Sep 2nd morning around 3 am which meant I had to leave home by Sep 1st night. It is the birthday of my younger son and we were both not looking forward to my absence. But we had also been waiting for this email.

As I was sadding and happying, my dear friend Pushpa called and I promptly poured out my problem. The conversation meandered and I shared with her our weekend plans. It was a visit to my parent’s home with my sons. My sister would also come with her daughters for celebrating Raakhi. All set for the brother-sister festival of 'Rakhi'. The ritual observed is that of the sister tying a ‘Rakhi’ a on her brother’s wrist, requesting him to protect her. My sons and nieces had decided a long time ago that they’d all like to tie Raakhis to each other.

  

Pushpa listened. She is a good listener and her mind works in many imaginative ways. She had once claimed that if she were a royalty she’d have a tough time keeping a straight somber face. A rightful claim for she would burst into laughter for many things that most of us would not. Sometimes getting herself and at times others into trouble. And we had all concluded that she would need a special ‘laughing room’ if ever she were the member of any royal family. So after hearing our weekend plan, Pushpa’s mind thought up a crazy-beautiful new one! “Give him a surprise party”, she said, “at the Raakhi-meet. Plan it after the Raakhi celebration. Anyway the family will be together isn’t it ?”

Of course! What a simple solution that only Pushpa can serve up! And so we hatched the plan, designed and executed it with much excitement and mucher stealth. Balloons, fairy lights, a small cake and book-gifts sneaked in for the celebrations! Food, family, close friends and togetherness, aptly sums up our definition of party. And by that definition we were all set!

After the Raakh-tyings and laddu-eatings , I cajoled my younger son to go with me to the grocery store. Last-minute rush-rush shopping is a part of our routine. And now it was a way to buy time so that the rest of the family could get into the act and do up the house. Son and I, returned to a dark home glowing with candles, grinning faces and “Happy Birthday to you” !

  

The soon-to-be 13 year old went from confused, shocked, elated, to deeply touched. But once it all settled in he was back in his elements and in the mood for some fun. “Hmmm…I knew it all along’, he claimed. But the moist-eyed cake-cutting boy had told us another story. Soon after he unwrapped and test-read ‘George’s Marvellous Medicine’ and 'Surely You're Joking Mr Feyman !' Countless endless conversations later we returned home with sleepy smiles.  

Later that night a mother slid into sleep with a lighter heart. And a week later......

"Happy Birthday! " she wished her son, from a zooming four-wheeler somewhere in the Southern hemisphere. And they teased her. “Tch tch cth…Shame on you! Travelling on your son’s birthday?" But she smiled a guilt-free smile. And she unofficially inaugurated the Storytelling Festival in the backseat of the airport pick-up.