Memory is unpredictable . One never really knows what we will remember and what we will forget. Which is why nostalgia arrives in unpredictable waves, highlighting something and skimming over others. Recently, I have found myself thinking of how memory works, as I was assailed by nostalgia over a trip to Varanasi, a city I prefer to think of, as Kashi. The nostalgia hit right as we landed at Varanasi airport. The last time I was here, it was 1988, I was 13 years old, the airport was brand new… regular flights hadn’t started yet (I think) … flights landed about once a week, and for the rest of the time, everything was open to those of us who lived in the airport quarters nearby. There were fields everywhere, vast expanses of green… I have vague memories of corn and sugarcane… and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the fields (this was the first time I was in such close proximity to them), and the warm hospitality of complete strangers who lived and worked amidst these fields. I h...
Ah! At last! I can hear the pitter-patter of the drops as they fall on my window pane….. When I open the window, the smell of wet earth fills my nostrils… how I have waited for this! Since the first week of June, we have been preparing ourselves for the monsoon, and every day that passed without rain was a depressing one. Then, we were hit by the water-cut, which only made things worse. All over, people are praying for rain. While some look at scientific methods, others perform havans. Some, like my mother-in-law and her friends, read slokas which are guaranteed to bring rains. Whatever the method, the aim is just one – a normal monsoon – not just for Bombay, but all of India. As the days passed, and July approaches, the hopes dipped, and all over, there was talk of a missed-monsoon and drought! But at last, there is hope! Since the last two days , it has been raining here (at least in our locality). The Met Department says these are just pre-monsoon thundershowers, but whatever the...