Main clay ki deewani hoon

The heat is too much outside,
But it is bearable inside
Only because of the water pot of clay
I think I can survive the month of May

The clay water pot, commonly known as matka sits on the loft for most part of the year. But with the end of winters, it is reverentially taken out, cleaned thoroughly, dried in the sun and then filled with water to quench our thirst. It needs to be handled with utmost care, the chances of it getting a crack are high, which is why as kids, we would never be allowed near it when it would be bought new or the old one would get down from its resting place.
Come summer and all I think is of having water from the clay pot. It tastes sweeter and obviously cooler. Refrigerated water does not come anywhere closer in my opinion. The perfect chillness, which will never cause cold and the sweet taste of clay which makes me want to fill up my stomach with water as soon as I enter the home after a trip outside is to be experienced.

Post marriage, I missed the clay pot the most during summers. The in-laws do not have a habit of using them. I lost the taste of naturally conditioned cool water amidst refrigerated ones. We actually drink from the plastic cans which has a very neutral taste 😐

If there ever is a chance for me to learn using the potter’s wheel, I would gladly do so. I would make batches of clay tumblers and have them stored carefully. Mornings I would fill them with water and set them in a cool place. I would wait one day for the clay to release its smell and sweetness. And then I whenever I would feel thirsty, I will go and quench myself with clay-ed water 😀

Desi romance

“Why is your smartphone looking so dull?’
“I installed an app so that the screen brightness can be reduced”
“But why, it looks as if the phone is dying slowly”
“I do not want to disturb your sleep with the phone’s light”

Such incidents squash my laments consisting of why I am never showered with gifts, surprises, dates, impromptu trips, cards, mush…etc…etc….etc…

Encompassed lives

The sisters were each others best friends. They did not have a social circle, since theirs was a conservative family. The cousins themselves were more than enough to have other kids play with them. They could not finish school due to financial constraints. One left the other after marriage to settle down in another city, faraway. They wrote letters to each other about the daily going ons. Telephone was a luxury accessory, only the most important news was conveyed using it. In-laws, husband, kids consumed their lives, leaving very precious time for themselves. When summer vacations used to start, either one of them would promptly visit the other with her brood. Pickles and appalams would be made and relished.

Time passed and the kids started college. A new world opened to them to discuss. College, stream, books, lecturers, universities, college festivals. They had never been to college, but their kids’ stories reveled them. The elder one used to call up the younger one and discuss about which saree should she buy to make her daughter look pretty during the farewell party. The younger one would ask about which dishes to make, to impress her son’s friends who visited.

Empty nest syndrome set in when their sons graduated and moved on abroad for higher studies, while their daughters got married and pursued their careers in different cities with their husbands. The days are now passed on reading old magazines and watching TV most of the time. The younger one called the elder one excitedly one day and talked at length about the yoga group, who diligently meet at the park everyday and consist of similarly aged ladies. She described how they also hold kitty parties and organize spiritual meetings and wondered aloud if she should join them as she could certainly do with some company. The elder one sat bemused, thinking how if the ‘groups’ are springing all over, everywhere. She too had heard from her maid about one such group led by a senior member, who organises crafts, yoga sessions, meditations and evening walks. With a hearty laugh, she continued the phone call with the information about her neighbourhood also having one such group.


The lengthy discussions have again started. Which footwear is best for morning walks? Noodles and pasta can be counted as snacks or meals? From sharing just their own lives with each other, they have progressed to sharing others lives with each other, and others.

The sisterhood truly expanded.