I’ve always found November strange. Not a month I look forward to as a rule. A lot of experiences have been packed into this month over the years. So much so that weird doesn’t cover it now.
Too many dates to remember, too things to try and forget. For one there are a lot of birthdays this month, chaddi-buddy Kushal on the 6th and today birth anniversaries of the forgotten Shruti and Pappa’s baidi Krithika. Grandpa turns 76 tomorrow and then there’s pops on the 10th. And finally an aunt on the 20th. Not strictly complaining per se, but November is a month like no other in my calendar. Just last year, I managed to fight away depression just in time and return to SNIFF, thanks to Radha, Renu and Trupti. Two years ago on this very day, long forgotten Shruti splashed cash on her birthday at the swanky Kailash Parbat. Between the two of us, Radha and I demolished 4 sizzling hot brownies, a feat that is surely unmatched anywhere. We didn’t just eat (after all the smoke had cleared away), we slurped, gobbled and licked our way through two and grabbed on to the leftovers of those with weaker stomachs. I can still taste it, smell it and be damned if I ever forget the slimy-haired waiter that served the party. UPG hasn’t been fair to Shruti ever since, but that was one hell of a meal.
To be fair, November has only been rummy ever since pops puffed his last ten years ago, November 5 to be precise. Hindu tradition prescribes that the family perform yearly rituals sometime close to the death date based on some lunar calendar something something. The remains of the puja are to be then fed to crows. I’ve never liked crows, liked pops even less and so every year I wish we won’t have to go through the whole rigmarole. This year, there are chances this will be the last time. I have some cuckoo assumption that the holy books mandate that you shan’t feed the crows for more than ten years.
Missing this year is Nikhil’s yearly visit, now that they’re working him so hard at Sydney University, I doubt we’ll see those Australians before all of Aunt Renuka’s hairs turn grey. Nothing much of note has happened so far in the past seven days, but since it’s already had rained this month, I wouldn’t rule out anything, I only superstition I’ve fallen prey to.
