THE FIRST AARTI

It's our favourite time of the year. The most divinely frolic week, it was the first day of Ganesh Chaturthi. With the arrival of bappa, the long lost life of the house was retained after five months of brain draining home quarantine. We cried on the top of throats "Ganpati bappa morya" during the arrival procession, and it definitely was the first instance of excitement and optimism after months. 

Apart from the devotional values, what makes Ganesh Chaturthi Special is that, it brings the oldest Aaji of the family to the farthest cousin kaka, a fair of all generations of the family together.

As every year, my kaka-kaki and cousins were the earliest to join in right from bappa's arrival procession. Maasi too came in, flaunting her finest saree and jewellery. Atya prepared and showed us her special modaks for the Ganesh Chaturthi's bhog. 

Pandit ji had entered the room on time and instructed baba with the pooja practices. Didi struggled in her saree to help Aai with the home chores, meanwhile still managing to click a good deal of selfies and flood her gallery. Aai had tucked the pallu of her gorgeous Paithani saree as she prepared the yummiest authentic Maharashtrian lunch. And amid all that, I rushed around relaying behind everyone, capturing all that frenzy in my phone.

Soon it was time for the loud, chaotic yet thrillingly joyful first Aarti. So I requested everyone to gather in the room. Now, a Ganpati Aarti in a typical Maharashtrian household, isn't just another coordinated singing of devotional songs. Rather, it's a lawless performance of all the family members with various props, making sure they are loud enough to jam your ears for the next hour after the Aarti is over. 

So without any delay, the race to grab their favourite sound props and instruments began. Dada (elder brother) sat with his dholak, and his daughter, my three year old niece sat with her toy drum. Most of them had their pairs of cymbal or tambourines (मंजिरा) while for others, the musical instruments for the day was going to be their own palms. The kakis took out the Aarti books that came free with the regional news papers and had assumed the job of directing the Aarti and correcting wrong lyrics by raising their pitch midway.

Soon it was time and Pandit ji showed a thumbs-up. Dad, standing in front of Bappa added camphor to the diyas and we were all set to begin, when Leena Maasi interrupted-

"Arey Beta!! Sunil Mama has not yet joined. I mean we all joined conveniently but I think Sunil is having some trouble to join with the Zoom link you sent on the family group." 

And so, me, the technical incharge for the day got to my job of helping Mama join our zoom meeting. Soon Mama was on board, so I continued pointing the camera at bappa and keeping my window on spotlight, we began the Aarti with bappa's name. "Ganpati bappa morya", everyone began to blared into their microphones. Some, without even realising they were on mute. With poor internet connections, some of their audios cracked, some of their videos- distorted, the sync disturbed. But since we all had a stronger connection with bappa, our devotion and happiness remained undistorted, undisturbed. 

THE MIDNIGHT DATE

“Coffee!” I broke him off his trail of thoughts. He took the coffee mug from me with an amiable smile. I sat along, with my cup on the mat that had been laid on the balcony floor. It was my best-loved place; ideally for the ‘me’ time. I sat down here to read novels in summer afternoons, slurping Maggie at midnights, scribbling poetries of my melancholies and escaping for the secret rounds of customary smoke. This little corner of mine was now upgraded to my new found haven with his exquisite company.

I snuggled in his embrace, leaving no inch in between; with my arms enveloped around him; he enveloped the sheet around us. It wasn’t chilly outside, maybe we were just too possessive of the warmth we shared. Almost all my senses where in a jubilant festival. My eyes stuck between the moon and stars above, the aroma of the coffee and whiff of his cologne partied in my nostrils. My skin fondled along his, and my ears were grooving at our coordinated heartbeats.
 
I broke the bonny silence again. Like a dreamy kid, I asked
 
“What lies ahead?” 
 
To which he replied with a song-
"Que sera sera,
Whatever will be will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera sera,
What will be will be."
 
Well, I had sunk so deep in the euphoria of his presence that time, that his answer just worked on me.
 
Withdrawing miserly from his clasp, I stood up to lean by the balcony's railing, as if trying to get a closer glimpse of the stars. There seemed no fault in our stars that night, as they constellated to make different visuals of my rosy pink future with him. I chuckled at my own insane musings, I hadn't even smoked yet. I guess, I was just tripping over him. He too hopped up and locked me gently by my waist with his arms from behind. To add up to the warmth, I pulled out two cigarettes for us. As I helped him light his cig, my eyes elated, at the tiny flame of the lighter. It threw a golden spotlight at his lustrous lips and jaw line in the darkness of the midnight. And the only sense organ that had remained unattended earlier, the tongue craved for it's treat.
 

 
That night, while we let out the puffs of smoke, we also let ourselves out, exploring about each other, polishing familiarity with each other. We chatted about our families, we flirted. We uncurtained our pasts, we flirted. We had become an open book to each other about our fears, strengths and anxieties, and we flirted more. We discussed our favorite sitcoms, movies, restaurants, books with constant naive attempts at matching each other’s preferences. 
 
Days had passed, since we had planned our dates in the future; clinging to the fancy of being together someday and yet all those days and nights weren't enough for the chat. Adding to the moment's enchant, I plugged in my earphones and shared with him my 'can't-sleep-need-romantic-soothing’ playlist, my kinda lullaby.
 
The dawn was soon to born, and I couldn't afford my parents to catch me awake, beaming and blushing at my phone at 4:00am in the balcony. I realized it's been four hours with my lips elasticized in a broad smile. But I was still in 2018, the chats weren't over yet, and so wasn't my date. Many such dates were promised over a year ago, but never happened. Yet I gathered myself up, and advanced to finish reading our remaining chats.
 
I had smoked off cigarettes on both of our behalves and struggled to keep my eyes open now. My stubbornness kept me on though, as I scrolled down further and re-read our chats, to complete my imaginary date. 

I scrutinized them again for the umpteenth time like I have been doing for over a year now. Making unsuccessful attempts at finding where I went wrong; so terribly wrong that I can only comfort myself by imagining him with me now. But gratefully or not, the lullabies playing in my ear, took over me. The session for that night was over. I dozed off at my best-loving place, on the mats, wrapped in my sheets alone.

My eyes began to shut for the night; rather 'morning'. My phone slipped off my hand as I lost the grip of my palm to my sleep. Similarly, my open-eyed imaginary date slipped to continue in my fairytale dream. Similarly, I gladly lost grip of the unpleasant reality, for many more insomniac nights like these, were he left me alone, where he was not around anymore...