Across the road opposite my house in Allahabad was the PWD Colony. We had not much in common with the residents there and most of the time lived in our separate worlds. I distantly remember some family names like The Goels, The Shuklas, The Senguptas, who we knew through chance meetings in the neighbourhood.
And there was also this one family who we hardly even spoke to, and yet quite certainly we shared a special bond with them. Their elder daughter was unfortunately mentally challenged. But it was a delight to see the dignified upbringing and care that she was receiving from her responsible and enlightened family.
I would often see her sitting with her mother engrossed in conversation oblivious of the world around them. The mother would sometimes be combing the girl's long black hair and at times trying to teach her to read and write.
Whenever our eyes met, we would exchange good-natured smiles.
My husband would gift her chocolates and biscuits on Children's Day.
Their unspoken reciprocation of affection would come with Holi Greetings.
Puri, kachori, paneer in a tasty gravy, seasonal vegetables cooked deliciously, dahi baras, two-three varities of papad, assorted snacks and the gujhias......all arranged on sparkling brass trays, with spotless white crocheted covers would come just in time for a delayed lazy lunch as my children returned home from the neighbour's house drenched in colours...
Amazing how the splendid colour of selfless love and regard manifests itself so silently, so sweetly, so memorably....
HAPPY HOLI :))
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