We oriya people have a similar... shall I call it custom? Yes custom... in our households. Every saturday, we light a diya so that Lord Shiva blesses us.
This brought back incredible memories. Allow me to share them?
So, I was six years old and my brother had just been born. I had an elder brother, who was ten years elder (or is it older?) to me. So we didn't exactly talk... me being a chhotti bacchhi and all... but thats beside the point.
So anyway... my younger brother was born, and he had all the ladies of the house dancing to his tunes, and I was jealous. So, it was one of those inexplicable days when the sky seems happier than you are, and because I was feeling especially grumpy (long story... starts with my baby brother crying and ends with me crying) I didn't notice how happy the sky was. It was happy, and I was grumpy.
So I, with my sweaty pigtails and quivering frown, was lurking around near the sabzi mandi (near to our place in Odisha... ten minutes walking... five minutes if it is raining) with hopes that somebody would realise I'm not there, so that I could be in the centre of attention for ten minutes while the brat (that's what I called my brother then. Honestly? I don't see any reason to change that nickname even now) could look on.
So, there I am, amidst the swarthy men sprinkling the vegetables with water, and suddenly, I saw a snake.
Now, my parents had been particularly vigilant about telling me not to touch stray dogs and not to talk to strangers, but I think they had forgotten to mention that snakes were meant to run away from, not follow... but... if they had told me so, we wouldn't be listening to this story. I remembered that my grandma had told me about snakes being guardians to fabulous treasures and so I started following the snake...
The snake seemed to realise that I was stalking it, but I guess we both knew I wouldn't run away from it or call somebody to kill it, because it looked back... almost as if checking if I were following it
Now before we go to the next leg of this story, you guys should know, that the part of Odisha my grandma lives in is very backward. Almost like a village... and if you walk for some distance, you will actually come upon this almost village-esque place. Thatched roofs, wells, women with pots. Village.
So... this snake, with me on its trail, slithered into the village... and since I am no James Bond, I lost it. I had this strange fantasy that maybe I'd come across the treasure and everybody would love me again... and because I wasn't all sportive about losing, I sat down there... right there... smack in the middle of nowhere and began crying.
So I started crying, and then this kind old lady came upto me and asked me why I was crying.
Have you ever come across those inexplicable things in life. When your gut tells you to do it... just because. In the middle of the madness they call life... one moment where you throw all caution to the winds and just go with it? Well, it happened with me.
So there I am... in the middle of nowhere, crying about losing my chance to get back all the attention I knew I deserved... and there she was... a woman with kind brown eyes. And I told her everything. Like how my brother kept crying... and that nobody would let me play with him, and thay my elder brother was a snob, and that my mum didn't love me anymore, and that my grandma wouldn't tell me stories because the brat tired her out with his constant crying, That I knew I had insisted on a brother, but if this is what a little brother meant I didn't want one anymore and that I had lost a chance to see the treasure the snake had guarded.
The woman started laughing. And then she took me to her place... and she showed me how to make pots.
Just imagine, a little girl with sweaty plaits and dried tears, and a woman whose face is wrinkled like the dhobi's thumb, sitting in the sun, making pots.
It was a different level of serenity. Just sitting there and making pots... watching the general hullabaloo like a bird of prey, watching, observing, greeting...
Later as the sun set, we both set off... the little girl with the grubby face and the old woman with her wrinkled on, as the sun cast its purply blue ribbons before signing off for the night.
To cut a long story short, this woman walked me inside my house (turns out she was my old nanny, I hadn't recognised her; and she had sent a message ahead with somebody that I was safe) and then she showed them the pots I had made and then... happily ever after.
Now call it looking back and realising something, but I think the snake had taken me to the treasure it had guarded all right.
So the point of the story was to tell everyone in a not so short way, that I kind of understood Arnav's comfortableness with the Kashi, Pallavi and Nalan.
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