The other day me and my husband were engrossed in a heated talk as to which summer camp my son is supposed to join this year. Both came up with various names, some old where my son had earlier been and some new where we felt he can have an amazing experience. Not only that thanks to the search engines every possible summer camp destination was thoroughly examined with details concerning but not limited to the activities that will be covered, staff and their credentials, safety measures and last but not the least the so called reviews left by parents. Reviews were enough to trigger a thought in our mind. When all seemed to be well it was the reviews which was limiting my hubby dearest from confirming and proceeding further. In between my son was leaving his studies mid-way and expressing his views which was unbiased and represented solely his changing mind set. Not only that my little one too started exercising his opinion there by repeating big brother’s words every five minutes. It was as if the house was on poll and it’s the majority which was supposed to win.
This dragged me deep down the memory lane when we were kids and in those times there were no camps but one vacation destination that always topped our wish list was “Aai’s place”. Every year when vacations used to start mom used to pack our bags and send us to Aai’s house which was in Bhubaneswar. Mom being the eldest and only sister to five young brothers we were the so called pampered kids who were loved immensely by our grandparents. Me and my sister in cute frocks used to explore the house to the core.
Every morning by the time we were awake the cement floor which served as a canvas would boast intricating and engaging jhoti designs with footmarks of Goddess Laxmi along with her favorite lotus that was not only a treat to our eyes but contributed in bringing positivity and prosperity to the house. My Aai was a master in this ancient art form of Odisha and with her long fingers she would draw lines which could give any artist a stiff competition. Not a single design was repeated and every dawn saw a new jhoti that was not only beautiful but symbolic and meaningful. We as kids would sit and request her to give us a chance to try our hands at this to which she would agree with the condition that our creativity should be limited to the open courtyard adjacent to the entrance door. We would dip our fingers in the semi liquid paste of rice and try to emulate our aai’s design but to no avail leaving us to wonder as to when and how we are going to master this.
Once the artist in us was satisfied we would have set our eyes on the big mango tree standing tall in the backyard of the house. Being summer the tree would be full with lush green mangoes which would be in their final stage of getting ripen. Despite repeated warnings from our Ajaa we would continue with our adventure by secretly trying out our hands on these aiming alternately with a stone and a thick stick. Once the target was hit, our eyes and ears would be in full focus to see if we have succeeded and once we did we would run to cut that round stone fruit to small pieces, subsequently mixing it with a pinch of salt that would be an instant treat to the senses. If at any time we got caught a “sorry ” was enough to pacify things.
Those days there were no gadgets or search engines but our unending questions were never left unanswered as we had our “Moving Dictionary” with us. Yes, it was our Ajaa, who was a knowledge powerhouse. Ajaa had answers to every possible question in this world and he was so vivid in his descriptions that we hardly needed a dictionary in the truest sense. Every day I would read aloud a page to him and he would guide me on my diction. Not only that, he would ask me to scribble my daily events on a page which would help me put forth my entire vacation experience later on. For Ajaa “Wasting Time” was the greatest sin and hence to avoid his scolding I used to engage myself with some activity or other.
Evening was spent reciting prayers, while my aai used to blow the conch shell, I used to try my hands on the antique brass bell. Together they used to make sound which was both mystical as well as melodious. In between we had the chance of relishing on homemade delicacies prepared by our Aai. Every day she would come up with an authentic Odiya dish specially prepared for us and we would end up asking for more. The best part of the day was still yet to come. That was this story telling session with Aai before going to bed. In fact this was the main drawing force where we would wait eagerly as when aai will come with her platter full of tales old and new. From folkloric fantasy involving dwarfs, dragons, mermaids to ghostly demons and witches, from moral tales to pre independence struggle, Aai knew them all. She didn’t need a book to read out, it was all in her head and it was so engulfing that we would be automatically exported to the world of fantasy. We didn’t have best technology,gadgets or camps but still we carried the most precious legacy of memories which will be cherished all our life.
