The Son Shine

 The thirty first of May was real special for Aai last year because both Raju and Sanju were to meet her after a break of about seventy five or so long days. Before the lockdown, she was used to Raju's weekly visits and Sanju's Sunday long-n-distant calls. Hungrily she would wait for both. The lockdown disturbed that routine. So the eager wait for the day. Even otherwise though, the last day of May was special for them both because it was Sanju's date of birth.

Actually, the division was rather neat. Raju was Aai's favourite son, while Sanju was Papa's. That did  not, however, mean that the spheres never intersected. The softest corner that Aai had for Sanju, and Papa for Raju, would gain on depth what it might lose on width. Papa loved Raju very deeply, while Aai had a special bond with Sanju. One of Aai's nursemaids would repeatedly tell the story of how on one particular afternoon, Aai was talking of Sanju, and she said Pinaki, and stopped for breath, and the next minute, Sanju was at the doorstep. For that nursemaid, it was nothing short of a miracle!

Sanju was Aai-Papa's good sonny boy much much before Riviere. Papa once had athlete's feet. Sanju used to personally clean his toes every day and night, apply the necessary anti-fungal cream, keep his feet dry. Without fail, he would follow the set pattern. What was remarkable about this Bhakt Pundalik behaviour was that Sanju was in his late teens or early twenties, a time slot most boys reserve for multiple other more interesting activities.

Aai had truckloads of stories of Sanju's childhood. He was a very healthy, happy baby full of life. Her parents loved Sanju. too. He used to wait for us at the doorstep and declare to her from the gate itself, "Aai, pore aali", and, God knows why, she loved that sentence as if it was a sant vachan/a quote from some saint. Once when he was really very small, he was determined  to be quite adventurous, and decided to explore the space beyond the boundaries of the home and hearth. He had just started walking then. Raju looked at the rather exciting sight most philosophically, and reported it to Aai rather dutifully. Till she could run after him, get him back, her heart was in her mouth, like the time a scorpion bit Sanju in his babyhood. As he was a very Johnson type of smiling baby till that point, it must have been most soul wrenching for her to hear him cry. 

Personally, for me, my heart used to be in my mouth  when Bhau Mama used to make him wrestle with Vinaya who was almost double his size then, and she used to advance at him most menacingly, and directly hurl herself at him. I suppose, that was the only time anybody could hold Sanju by the scruff.

Aai fetched him to-n-fro to Pillay's nursery and primary school every day. She would sit in the Sarasbaug temple till his school would get over.  If Prakash Mama would be there, he would share the duty. To begin with, he would find it extremely difficult to locate his nephew from amongst some fifty kids who looked almost alike in the skimpy uniform. After that the duo would return home while Mama would ask Sanju's opinion about whom he would prefer as his Mami amongst all the girls they met all along the road. Any number of times, I have got him home double seat on my cycle. Sitting comfortably on the carrier/pillion seat, he used to without fail advise and guide me about how to ride the bicycle in the traffic. 

Actually, Sanju was selected for the Dnyan Prabodhini. I do not exactly remember why it was decided not to send him there. Papa was then at Sholapur, Balu Mama was busy with the `beginning of the year' activities. I remember once going with him to the Education Board Office@ S.S.C.Board Building or in the Camp Area for Sanju's admission in to the fifth standard. As Papa was at Sholapur on a transfer, and Mama was busy, the great duty of taking Sanju's admission in Garware High School fell on to my fourteen year old shoulders. I still remember the argument I had with Gawade Sir. What had happened was that the Pillay Primary School would curiously draw a red line under the marks of the topper in the subject. So Sanju's school report was full of red marks. Gawade Sir hence said,"his report card is full of red marks". By that time, I was dead tired moving from the school office to the Principal's office, kind of saat-so phera's/errands. First, my eyes filled with tears at the great injustice to my brilliant brother.  Then, next moment, Rani Laxmibai seemed to inspire me, and I fearlessly gave Gawade Sir a huge long lecture, or rather a piece of my mind, on how he should have carefully looked at the report card, and realised how my young brother is actually a superb student. He was rather taken aback at my spirited support of my brother's merit, but the poor soul, a generous man, was rather indulgent as it was his error of perception. He obviously gave Sanju the merit based admission. But, towards the end of the great interaction, he asked me, "Why do they underline in red the marks of the best student?" To which I answered with the courage of "I did not eat the turnips" variety, "How am I responsible for their system?" Thus began my anti-system stance against the educational establishment which has its roots in Sanju's childhood. 

I had another brush with the educational variety of authority when Ashtaputre Mavashi told Aai that Sanju is a chatterbox in the classroom. I denied the accusation most politely but most vehemently with the theatrics of a "milord" typology. Sanju knows how we studied in the last couple of days  for his Marathi and English papers when he was an S.Y.J.C student. Aai got irritated finally that my tuition was encroaching on his ablution times. But we completed the entire portion in record time, and had covered it so well that he got eighty plus in both the languages. 

Sanju's career as an engineer, his jobs , his introduction of new soft skills even at home, his gardening, his cooking, his skill in many arts, his cricket, everything was a source of joy for both of them. They loved Kunal for his own sake, but also because he was their favourite son's son, and just as Sanju was  a good son, he has been a good father, too. Aai always admired his parenting skills, his tolerant support of Kunal every which way. For Papa, separation from Sanju was so terrible that he wept inconsolably at the airport when  Sanju left for the U.S. Equally intense has been Sanju's strong bond with Raju. But that is their theme. Aai loved his strong ties with her brothers and his cousins. Sanju has been a wonderful Kaka, but that is Amar-Siddhu's domain. I would rather end this May Day special with a famous quote:

"Whenever I look at you, I am reminded that I was able to produce something good in this world. You make me so proud of all you achieved, and will  achieve. I love you, my son!"

pratima@"ithun drisht kadhate"/Aai's favourite song, I think, meant for Sanju