On internet, I watched the songs from the film "Morning Raga" this morning. They are really beautiful. Shabana Azmi looks great. Perizaad Zorabian also. But it is the music that gave me goose-flesh. I had listened to the cassette of this film in Delhi in December and had thought that it was monotonous.
Back in Bologna, I had tried playing it in the car while going to work a couple of times, and then given it up. And then today, watching the songs is completely different from listening to them. Listening to the cassette now will be another experience. Yet it is still the same cassette!
Morning Raga brought memories of Malati. Renu's friend in NPL. In our home, everyone was didi-dada, but not in Rahul's home. There Renu was just Renu. And Malati. Her voice was heavy, almost like a man's. She practiced Carnatak music. Heavenly. Thinking of Malati brought in mind her sister in law, Vatsal's wife, and their twin sons. I remember her crying desperately in the corridor at Wellingdon hospital, the blanket dirty with blood. I didn't know, how to console her. What do we men know about loss of some thing that grows inside you?
***
I have cooked bhindi today. And some arabi. It makes me a bit sad to find all these vegetables at the Bangladeshi fruit and vegetable stalls in Bologna. Till two years ago, I would wait for months to go to Delhi, mentally tasting arhar ki daal, bhindi, karela, mooli ... Now every thing is there in the Bangladeshi and Pakistani shops, very convenient but not so good for the nostalgia.
The Bangladeshi girl in the store had packed bhindi and arabi for me, and then asked me, if I wanted some fresh mangoes? It made me shudder. All my nostalgia, longings and memories killed by fresh fruit & vegetables that come every week from Bangladesh.
***
Back in Bologna, I had tried playing it in the car while going to work a couple of times, and then given it up. And then today, watching the songs is completely different from listening to them. Listening to the cassette now will be another experience. Yet it is still the same cassette!
Morning Raga brought memories of Malati. Renu's friend in NPL. In our home, everyone was didi-dada, but not in Rahul's home. There Renu was just Renu. And Malati. Her voice was heavy, almost like a man's. She practiced Carnatak music. Heavenly. Thinking of Malati brought in mind her sister in law, Vatsal's wife, and their twin sons. I remember her crying desperately in the corridor at Wellingdon hospital, the blanket dirty with blood. I didn't know, how to console her. What do we men know about loss of some thing that grows inside you?
***
I have cooked bhindi today. And some arabi. It makes me a bit sad to find all these vegetables at the Bangladeshi fruit and vegetable stalls in Bologna. Till two years ago, I would wait for months to go to Delhi, mentally tasting arhar ki daal, bhindi, karela, mooli ... Now every thing is there in the Bangladeshi and Pakistani shops, very convenient but not so good for the nostalgia.
The Bangladeshi girl in the store had packed bhindi and arabi for me, and then asked me, if I wanted some fresh mangoes? It made me shudder. All my nostalgia, longings and memories killed by fresh fruit & vegetables that come every week from Bangladesh.
***
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