The "nothing better to write about" series: Meeshu का नाड़ा

That is where all of this started from: Meeshu's नाड़ा. Monu and Rahul now being engaged, they can officially go to and return from Delhi together. But while Chacha is a religious follower of "reach-the-railway-station-an-hour-before-the-train-arrives-on-the-platform" and often literally pushes us out of the house exactly 80 minutes before, to cover the 15-minute distance to the railway station, our to-be relatives are so much more cooler. Rahul especially, works on GMT and is known to proudly exclaim "there is still seven minutes before the train leaves" on reaching the platform in a state of breathlessness from running. This pride will quickly wither in the next few seconds under Monu's.... well withering stare (no literary genius here, sorry) but that is another story. Which I will tell you now briefly: see poor Monu gets stuck between her overly-cautious father and overly-adventurous fiancé (these adjectives are to be used in the very specific context of catching the train ONLY) and since she cannot berate the former, it must come out on the latter.

The last time they came, Monu and Rahul were to return to Delhi by the A/C Special Train that leaves from Doon at 11.35 p.m. Chacha is usually in a state of happy-tipsy-and-more by then so I decided to go with him to drop Monu at the station. My sister and I dallied, she changed her clothes thrice and I persisted in hugging Chachi goodbye which made Chacha wonder out loud and quite close to my ear if I had been gulping down his drinks when nobody was looking (I cannot afford to now follow this conversation but you must know I had several scalding things to say about it) but we eventually had to leave, and reached the platform with over an hour to spare.

Once there, Monu immediately took to pacing up and down the platform in agitation while Chacha and I demurely sat down on one of those hard, green benches on railway stations. Our usual habit at such times is to make fun of people and pass smart comment on their appearance or behaviour, in Punjabi. Coz its not half the fun if it is in English or Hindi. Chacha had just delivered his favourite "ऐ कुड़ी है कि मुंडा है" (is that a girl or a boy) for a man with a ponytail when I saw HIM. Jackpot!

He was standing a little way from us, alone and a little way from the rest of his family, which does not imply that his family was standing next to us. It also does not imply that they were not standing next to us but that is the case, here. Back to the man.

Height: Tall (I cannot do that thing when you look at somebody and go "oh he is 6'3")

Weight: A slight paunch and sagging cheeks but not fat per se (I cannot do that thing for weight, either)

Hair: Salt and Pepper; ditto for beard (it was a real beard, not one of those goatees or French beard)

Attire: Starched, white kurta-pyjama and white sandals

Overall look: Impressive, except...

So I nudge Chacha to divert his attention from ponytail-man to the white kurta-pyjama man and I say nonchalantly "कोई इन्ना आखो नाड़ा बंध लवे" (somebody ask him to tie his नाड़ा), for the white string from his pyjama was hanging down all the way to the ground and would have gone further down had it not been a नाड़ा but since it was, it just ended up in a puddle of sorts on the ground where the man stood. Then I waited for Chacha's alcohol-laced mind to join the dots and when he finally did, we roared with laughter and kept at it, for quite a while without the slightest inclination of being subtle. After a while, Chacha, eyes still streaming said "that's MEESHU" and burst into another peel of laughter.

So I obviously wanted to know who Meeshu was. Turns out, he is distant distant DISTANT family and before I tell you the tale that Chacha told me, I have to say I do write awfully long introductions. Meeshu is about chacha's age and they went to college together back in the day. He is supposed to be a miser and a is also said to harbour a conniving mind and he is supposed to take after his father.

The story of Meeshu took us back in the day that my Chacha was a little boy and maybe India was not independent yet. My buaji Kamla, who is Chacha's older sister had had her रिश्ता fixed and this was the time when the family was still living in Vikasnagar, which is about an hour from Doon. Punjabis have not changed in the ages and as soon as a couple has been hitched, the one thing that the girl's family will incessantly worry about is offending the groom and his family. This includes extended family. What I mean to say is that the worrying on part of the girl's parents includes either immediate or extended family of the bride offending either immediate or extended family of the groom.

Meeshu's dad used to run a टांगा (horse-carriage) in those nice days before cars came. After a visit to their future daughter-in-law's home in Vikasnagar, my buaji's mother-in-law was returning to Dehradun in Meeshu Sr.'s टांगा. She was talking animatedly about our family, with her daughter when Meeshu Sr. turns around and asks if they are talking about Ram Chameli (my grandmother) and her daughter. Buaji's mother-in-law says yes they are and he says why! what a coincidence, he happened to be Ram Chameli's nephew. Oh how wonderful, she says and chit-chats with Meeshu Sr. all the way. So you can understand how incredibly offended she was when, on reaching her destination Meeshu Sr, without the smallest signs of hesitation quotes 2 annas and takes it too! Actually, you cannot understand but just do for the heck of it.

A few days later, my grandmother receives a तार from the groom's mother stating of this unbearable insult where the groom's family had to pay money to the bride's side. It took a lot to make right the no-wrong!

The original Meeshu grew up in his father's footsteps and went to the same college as my Chacha. Their fee was rupees 135 per year and Meeshu spent a blissful four years at college, extracting rupees 135 every month from his unhappy dad. But to make up for all the money that he wasted on his son's education, Meeshu Sr. would put Meeshu to work during the University's summer breaks. So during the summer months, Meeshu's voice could be heard through the alleys and lanes of Vikasnagar, selling ice-cream. Sometimes when Meeshu Sr. wanted to get in my grandmother's good books, he would send Meeshu with his cart to her house to treat everybody with free ice-cream.

It was great to learn these ancient unwisdoms. Alerted by our raucous laughing, Meeshu's son-in-law pointed out the obvious and had the Rapunzel of Meeshu's pyjama restored.

By then, Rahul appeared on the scene, breathless from all the running yet proud about his arrival 7 minutes before they were due to depart, and Chacha and I returned home once the train chugged off.