Mama-shaadi and black holes

Mum found the “mama-shaadi” video (as we used to call it) on their computer, and copied it and got it here. This video was a regular source of entertainment for our family…one of the first to be taken, and since we were one of the few people to have a VCR then, this video was replayed countless times for visiting relatives.

Each time, there was a comforting regularity around our observations and comments, chief among them being the lamentation that the “idiot” videographer hardly took any coverage of our family, which incidentally has turned out to be a pattern since then! Then there were the usual comments about what people wore, the laughter at Dolly’s antics, the irritation at my refusing to get on the ghodi and being replaced by “some child”, the not-so-subdued murmurings about the “chaalu” looking faces on the other side, the amusement at the height difference between the couple, and the sneaky pleasure of rewinding the tape and watching people taking food out of their mouths!

For so many years, this video’s been missing . We watched parts of it again today on the laptop, in its bruised and battered state. But the emotions didn’t change. Daddy standing tall, with a drink in his hand, quietly organizing stuff. Nanima looking devastatingly beautiful in that light blue saree, which was such a favorite of mine. Mama looked quietly happy, chatting, eating, glancing at Mami often. And us. Mummy’s sparkling eyes, without the pain that would dull them in later years. Dolly’s exuberant chatter and constant activity. And my simple acceptance that my lot was to be at Mama’s side throughout the evening, even sitting at the mandap with one arm on his knee, even as all the other kids played.

Yes that was my lot. To love so unconditionally and so simply that I didn’t know any other way. Nanima, Mama, Mummy…my three anchors, so unalterably a part of my life that till date when I nurse a bruised ankle or a high fever, I long for their touch. And Daddy…always fourth, yet he made his presence felt only his absence.

I continue to feel that yearning and that sadness as I think of them. But yes, the pain is better. At least I don’t live in denial anymore and can think and talk about them without disappearing into a temporary black hole. I guess that’s healing.