Interlude



Jerry and me

 The next few years were peacefully uneventful. Saraya was an unreal oasis in the middle of a crazy world and  just what the doctor ordered. I had no friends or social commitments, but that was exactly how I wanted my life to be.

Mother and I would make the occasional journey up to Lucknow, to visit my sister Juliet who was a boarder in Loreto Convent. From there we picked up books and magazines to keep us well stocked for reading matter till the next trip. Even today a pile of volumes on my bedside give me a warm and fuzzy feeling feeling of contentment. 

Every Friday was movie afternoon, and no matter what the weather we would venture out to Gorakhpur twenty six kilometres away, in all our make up and finery to catch the three o'clock show of the latest film, as well as do the week's grocery shopping. Neither our Fiat nor any of the movie halls were air conditioned but I don't remember ever complaining about the heat or inconvenience. This weekly routine was so fixed that the local Lothario's would be waiting for our car to pass and then follow at a  discreet lovelorn distance, occasionally bravely throwing in a love letter. These small town shenanigan's were a welcome relief after what I had been through, and were always treated with quiet and tolerant amusement.

Summer evenings were spent by the pool - we would carry out our portable record player for music and the cook would rustle up platefuls of "nibblies'. We floated around in a large inflated tractor tyre tube and occasionally had  parties with the rest of the Majithia clan. My friend Santosh stayed in Saraya for months on end and we took out father's old jeep to drive around aimlessly for hours. Sometimes we ventured out to one of the small lakes that dotted the area, armed with a bucket and mother's old sari, where we would persuade a couple of village lads to dredge the lake for small Glass fish which we brought home to add to the already exotic collection in our aquarium.



Jerry and father being wayched by mother and my neice Malvika

 Jerry Bains came into our lives and his presence was an added bonus to all of us. He was working for one of the Majithia's and had to be in Saraya for prolonged periods of time. He came across to play cards with  father every evening and it was always amusing to watch them argue over the spoils of the day which would add up to maybe fifty paisa or a rupee. He knew some of the Air Force crowd from Gorakhpur and would invite them over for crazy parties in which tables and antique dinner sets were known to have been smashed beyond repair. Whenever he arrived from Delhi he would bring us salami, ham and fancy cheeses, none of which were available in a small village.

Jerry and I became close friends and confidantes and I always looked forward to his visits. He is one of those people whom I believe was destined to come  into my existence for a reason, as he played a very important role in my life then, when he introduced me to a young Flying Officer of the IAF called Sandip Sud, who is now my husband of twenty eight years, and again many years later when he insisted we buy a flat in Gurgaon, which is where we now so happily live.

One year Robin Lal, a dear friend, stayed with us for nearly nine months after he suffered a really bad accident and those were amazingly happy times filled with laughter. Zohra, whose mother was an English lady married into a renowned Muslim family of Gorakhpur lived with us too. That was another phase that holds warm memories, despite the fact that Zo was not in a good place in her life mentally or physically. We became firm friends and still share a warm camaraderie, though I don't see as much of her as I should. We  got into the irritating habit of speaking in heavily accented "babu" English, communicating only in rhyme and writing crazy poetry, which was a cause of great irritation for those who had to put up with it!

There was a lady who called her 'period' having her season which elicited great mirth from us and Zo once sent me this 'poyum' early morning.

There is bhery leetle cotton voool

Upon thee chest of drawer

I therefore send thee ayah flying to your door.

I know you vant to know the reason

Am simply having season!

Those things vill not do I say

Tampoons I must not use you see

For after so thee many months

Rusted up I surely be.